Out of her depth, Out of her time
by BlackMoonQueen
Summary: Carrie Jane Smith is somehow transported to a different country and time she knows nothing about. This is the story of how she learns to cope in that brutal and bloodthirsty world. M for future content.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This is a little bit of a time-travel fanfic experiment, I haven't tried writing anything like this before and have full chapter plans to try and keep things in order. If you don't like it then just don't read it.

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

oOoOo

It was one of those seemingly rare, warm days in England with a clear blue sky, and the rays of the sun beaming down through the canopy of the forest Carrie Smith walked under. She clicked happily away on her camera, taking photos of birds, flowers, even a particularly lazy squirrel. And then the world seemed to cloud over. As she stepped into a large clearing to get a better look at some bluebells, light crackled through the ominous clouds and thunder rolled overhead. Before she even had a chance to cower at the monstrous sound, another flash of light appeared, this one striking her blind with unconsciousness.

The next thing the girl was aware of was the sound of a howl far away. She opened her eyes, vision hazy, and looked around at her surroundings; high mountains trapped her, and birds that looked suspiciously like vultures circling overhead. Dazed and confused, Carrie stood before gingerly examining her body to check for any damage. She was covered in bruises; her body felt like it had taken a beating. Her memory was fuzzy and she couldn't remember how she got to this place, but she was pleased to find her water bottle was still in her bag, right next to her binoculars and the plants she had picked to take home. The next thing she checked was her camera, which, surprisingly, was still in one piece and in working order. Her mobile phone had no signal but she tried to ring home anyway just in case, when nothing happened Carrie gave up and, noticing the setting sun, began walking in the direction of the densest patch of trees, hoping to find some sort of shelter for the oncoming night.

Carrie managed to find her way to the trees in the last vestiges of light, and decided to climb one for the night. The howls that before sounded so distant now echoed around and seemed eerily close. Sleep didn't come that night as she kept watch with panic setting in, shivering under the stars that looked so much brighter than usual. She thought over the events of the day in her mind until she managed to sort them into some sort of chronological order. The walk in the woods was normal until the thunder and lightening. She had read about people struck by it but she hadn't felt any sort of pain and her body didn't feel out of the ordinary other than the strange bruises. She wondered if her family were looking for her and what they would do if they didn't find her. She wondered what _she_ would do if they couldn't. There were no mountains like this in England as far as she knew, and she had been pretty good at Geography in school. It made no sense, but if she kept walking in the same direction then surely she'd come across a village, but if she didn't find any people soon then she would need food, water, and warmth if she had a chance of staying alive. The thin hoody she took everywhere with her was better than nothing at all, but the weather had been blisteringly hot when she had started out for her walk, and since she hadn't planned on being long she had nothing warmer prepared. The sounds of other nightlife creatures terrified the girl and did nothing to improve her fear of the dark. She sat through her quiet vigil with chattering teeth and blue lips, praying for the dawn to come soon.

When the sun finally made an appearance and began to rise, warming the air, Carrie carefully climbed down from the perch and started to move around to force some warmth into her cold, stiff limbs. She looked for the better part of the day for a recognisable plant she could use to eat, but she found nothing she could put name to with surety. It was worrying because her older brother had spent so much time teaching her skills that she now couldn't use. He'd taught the ways of testing edibility in plants but she wasn't prepared to try something that looked so foreign while the pain of hunger eating away at her belly was just about tolerable.

Giving up on finding food for now, Carry made her way uphill to try finding signal for her phone again; this time when it didn't connect she really began to panic. Looking around from her heightened position, Carrie was horrified that there was no town, village, or even single hut in sight. No smoke, no felled trees, no roads or anything. This was defiantly not the same country she was living in just yesterday. However squinting into the distance she could just about make out something in the sky. It was approaching faster than a bird could have done. Looking through the binoculars it looked like something mechanical, but much bulkier and quieter than a plane normally was. Her head was pounding with the heat and hunger but she forced herself to climb a little higher, hoping that if she jumped around enough they might see her. Screaming and shouting at the top of her lungs, Carrie jumped about making as much of a spectacle as she could to gain their attention. If they didn't see her she knew there was no way she would survive out here now. Most of what her brother taught her would be useless in this situation. No dogs howled like those that did last night, if there were wild animals about she would be easy prey.

The machine arrived what felt like hours later. A ladder descended and Carrie was sobbing with relief when she held onto it. She was shocked that she couldn't move though and the ladder just pulled up with her attached, she just managed to cast her eyes downwards and a dizzying wave of sickness rolled in her stomach when she saw how high they were.

Once she was safely inside a small group of men and woman surrounded her, several held guns and more than one wore something that looked like surgical gear. Carrie was stammering her heartfelt thanks when once of the armed men started shouting at her from behind his mask.

"It is a Capitol offence to go beyond the boundaries of your district. State your name and district, girl." He was a large and imposing man with a strong accent that Carrie couldn't place. Terrified of the anger radiating from him her tears changed from relief to fear as she started crying and answered him as best she could.

"M-my name's Carrie, Carrie Smith. I-I l-live in Hope's Dean but I don't know how I got here. Please I haven't done anything wrong, I got caught in the lightening and woke up here, please believe me." She was hardly coherent in her rush to answer but her audience picked up the different accent she had that belonged to no district they knew of.

"You are being held captive and taken back to the Capitol for questioning. If you fight us or speak without permission you will be punished accordingly." The man shouted back at her. Carrie really didn't understand why he was shouting since they were only a few feet away from each other but she kept her mouth shut and tried not to do anything that would anger him further. They grabbed her bag before shoving her into a seat that held her arms and legs in place.

"You will tell us what is in bag now." Another man commanded.

"My camera, binoculars, bottle, phone and hoody. Some plants I picked yesterday, and my notebook and pen." She answered quickly; then it suddenly occurred to her that they might think she was some sort of terrorist and she hurriedly added, "The liquid in the bottle is water." It seemed to satisfy them, as they didn't say anything else for a while as they removed the objects from the bag, verifying her answers. One of the surgical people looked over her phone and camera quizzically. Carrie strained to hear what she was saying to her companion.

"These are very archaic, certainly no one in the Capitol would have a model like this but even the richer districts couldn't afford something like these." Carrie almost spoke out but held her tongue, questions forming freely in her mind.

"Where did you get these Runaway?" It took Carrie a moment to realise the woman was talking to her as she was so fascinated with the woman's blue skin, she reminded the girl of a Smurf in the white outfit she had on.

"I'm not running away. And my parents gave me the camera for Christmas last year. The phone is a hand down from my brother when he upgraded. They're not the most recent models but they certainly aren't the oldest so I don't know what you mean my archaic." She frowned. The angry soldier was glaring at her with his hands twitching on his gun.

"She is a rebel Ma'am, the law for rebels is to be shot. Shall I do it now?" Carrie cowered in her seat and struggled with the restraints holding her in place.

"I know the law, Timms. I believe she'll need questioning first though. Wait for the order when we get back." The blue skinned woman carefully put the camera and phone back in the brown bag before reaching for a syringe in a metal case nearby. As she closed in on Carrie, the girl began to whimper and struggle harder, forgetting the no speaking rule she started to shout out.

"No…no please I'm good. Please don't hurt me. Don't hurt me!" The syringe found its mark and within seconds Carrie's vision became blurry. Her eyes closed against her will.

oOo

**A/N: J**ust going to clear up a few things so anyone who does decide to stick with this is on the same page as me, so to speak. I imagine the Hunger games books to be set about 274/5 years into the future, so that's roughly when my story's Panem is set. That, in my mind, is: 100 years for the world as we know it to fall, another 100ish to rebuild and for Panem to settle, and then the 75 from the Dark days of the first rebellion. This story is just short of the 74/5-year mark by a few years. Carrie comes from England of our current year (2012), and was somehow transported forward in time to another country, but more on that in future chapters.

You may well have guessed by now that I'm from Britain myself so if I have made/do make any major muck-ups for anything American I apologise profusely, however I do try to research what I can before writing it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Proof read this to the best of my ability but apologies for any mistakes.

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

oOoOo

When Carrie Smith woke this time, it was with a raging fever. Strapped down on a bed in a clinically white tiled circular room, she looked around weakly and briefly entertained the thought that the memories of the wilderness and flying machine were some sort of hallucination from the illness…until a man walked through the door with his companion that is. The man had green skin, like the lady on the aircraft had had blue, and the woman walking next to him had extravagant make-up with sweeping false eye lashes and what looked like a white wig.

"Well, it looks like our guest is awake finally. Hello there." Carrie wondered why he was greeting her so jovially and referring her as a 'guest' when she was tied down on the bed with what felt like plastic-ties.

"Where am I?" she found her voice was surprisingly weak and croaky but he seemed to understand well enough when he cheerfully responded.

"You are in the Capitol my dear. We are here to ask you a few questions. If you would be so kind as to answer them honestly, things will go much more smoothly. Now then, what is your name? You're full name." He settled himself into the chair beside her bed while the woman stood behind him taking notes dutifully, saying not a word. Carrie wondered if she would have the same accent as him if she were to speak.

"Um…Carrie Jane Smith. The Capitol? Are we in London?" She replied, baffled.

"I'll be the one asking questions for the time being Carrie, but no we are not in 'London'. Now then, can you tell me what district you come from? Or your family?"

"I don't know what you mean, like I told the man on the plane I live in Hope's Dean."

Her questioner frowned slightly

"No lies now, it won't get you anything but trouble dear."

"I'm not lying! I live there with my parents and brother, we moved there four years ago. I was born in Oxfordshire. Her voice remained weak, though reached a high-pitched panic in her desperation for them to believe her.

"Okay then, it's ok don't get yourself worked up you are still not well. Can you tell me when happened before the hovercraft found you?" She told them about going for a walk in the woods near her home and the lightening. About how she woke up surrounded by mountains and climbed the tree for the night. She described her fear of not recognising many of the plants and how she tried ringing out on her phone again before spotting the shape in the sky.

"Ah yes, that phone of yours. It's remarkably lucky you had that on you. The hovercraft was already scouting out the area anyway, but when they picked up the signal that your phone was emitting, it is what pinpointed the craft to you. Can you tell me more about this phone of yours?" That statement answered one of the many questions on Carrie's mind about how they found her. She willingly responded

"It used to belong to my brother. He got it a few years ago for his birthday but when he bought a new one last month he gave that one to me. Which is better than my old one, this one has a better camera and I can listen to the radio on it."

"And what year was it made Carrie? Can you remember?" The man had an intense look on his face, leaning forward and staring at her; waiting for what she would say.

"I'm not sure, I think about 2009, maybe 2010. But it wasn't the latest model so it may be a few years older than that. Why is it so important?" She noticed the spark in his eyes when he glanced up and met eye contact with the woman. A small smile played on her lips and she gave a short nod.

"Why is that so important? Where am I? I have a right to know!" The girl was becoming frustrated and scared again, recalling what the angry soldier had said on the 'hovercraft' about shooting her.

"That's enough from us for now. Try and get some more rest Carrie, the medicine had an unfavourable effect on you. It seems your body does not cope well with our treatments and you need to wait until the side-effects wear off."

"Side effects? What side effects?" But it was their backs Carrie was calling to as they exited the room, leaving her alone once more.

oOo

It was hours later before anyone visited Carrie to talk. A nurse came in once or twice and checked the machine she was hooked up to but that was all until another man strolled in casually. His hair was patchy and burned at some of the tips, his eyes a cold shade of green, and his eyebrows were hawk-like, making Carrie feel like his prey.

"Hello Carrie, I am Professor Merrin. I believe you have some questions you want answering, however you need to be patient a little longer while I ask mine. They won't take long. Now then, can you tell me the year please?"

Carrie looked at him suspiciously; it was remarkably difficult to glare at someone while being tied up lying down.

"2012…July third to be exact." She replied carefully, as if this were a trap. The professor sighed sadly and made a little note on his clipboard.

"And what was your date of birth please?"

"June twelfth, 1995."

"Alright and last one, the country you live in?"

Carrie definitely found that one strange and suspicious. "You should know, I haven't left the country in 3 years." She retorted with as much anger as she could muster, deep down though a small niggling feeling left her feeling queasy. It was true that the area she woke it was strange and foreign, and they all spoke with a funny accent, something just didn't feel right.

"Answer the question now dear, things will be much easier with your cooperation."

"England" she replied with a small voice, all anger replaced with fear. He nodded his head curtly. After a silence had stretched out for an uncomfortable amount of time whilst he scribbled notes down, Carrie finally summoned the courage to speak.

"The other doctor said I had a bad reaction to the medicine you gave me. What medicine was it? I'm not allergic to anything as far as I know." She asked quietly.

"It was just a routine body pep up, and a few different injections to get you back on track after your time in the wild. However your body rejected most of what we gave you. That has never happened before, even with tributes whose bodies are also not accustomed to our treatments. We ran a number of tests and you differ from us slightly. Only in the smallest of ways, however it means you will have to be weaned onto our drugs slowly if you don't want to die from them."

Carrie frowned at him in confusion

"Different from you how?"

"You wouldn't understand dear, it's all scientific jargon."

Carrie realised that was all he was likely to say so she changed tracks and asked a different one.

"Can you tell me where I am please? And untie me, it's remarkably uncomfortable like this."

He smiled, which looked slightly menacing with the eyebrows but it was an improvement.

"You are in Panem, in the Capitol. Panem used to be called North America." He added on the end when he saw her utter confusion, trying to work out where Panem was.

"Used to be?"

He sighed again, put the clipboard down and reached out to place his hand on hers.

"This is going to be a little difficult to take in Carrie, and I want you to remain calm so that I can explain fully. The year is 2285."

Carrie stared at him, eyes wide and opened mouthed.

"You're crazy. You're actually mental and this is some sort of sick joke." She murmured. Suddenly feeling all the more helpless. If they tried doing anything to her while she was tied down like this there was no way she could defend herself. "Could you please let me out of these restrains?" she asked again, more forcefully, her voice still hoarse.

"I'm afraid I can't do that right now, especially while you are upset Carrie. And I assure you this is no joke."

"How the heck am I supposed to believe this? Time travel does not exist! This has to be some sort of Big Brother experiment…well I'm not going to fall for it." She started to struggle and twist, trying to pull herself free but the ties were too tough and her wrists started to bleed with the friction.

"Now, now, enough of that. Settle down now." He cast a glance past her, and in her struggle she noticed the large mirror. She was just about paranoid enough to believe it was a two-way screen, and started thrashing about even more when the door opened and armed men stormed into the room, training their weapons on her.

"Carrie, we cannot inject you with anything yet so you must calm down or we shall be forced to react physically. If you do calm down, I shall undo the wrist restraints." Professor Merrin stared at her sternly. Carrie forced herself to lay still, eyes darting around and the counted 7 gunmen in the room. That was incredibly excessive in her opinion but it certainly persuaded her to stop struggling. Panting heavily she let him free her top half. Her legs were still trapped though and without a blade she stood no chance of cutting herself free. It at least enabled her to sit upright when the professor adjusted the bed into a raised position.

"Thank you" she whispered gratefully.

"I understand this is a lot to take in. We have a team of our best researchers trying to find out what happened. Anything we can do to help you, you merely have to ask."

Carrie thought for a moment, glancing at the white uniformed soldiers.

"What's happened in the world since I went missing?" she asked.

oOo

A predominantly male group sat silent and solemn around a large table. The room in which they sat had an austere feel to it, emphasised by the general mood of the people in the room. President Coriolanus Snow sat at the head of the table, his chin resting on his steepled fingers as he gazed flatly at the other occupants.

"She is a hazard. What is it you wish you gain from her?" He asked eventually.

The others glanced around nervously, each willing another to be the one foolish enough to speak. These were members of a Society dedicated to scientific study and paranormal activity, typically high-class citizens wishing to appear more mysterious and important to other members of the Capitol simply by being a member. The group was fairly small simply due to the fees members had to pay each year.

This girl appearing in the wilderness, seemingly out of nowhere was the most interesting thing that had happened in years, as such they were eager to keep hold of her for as long as possible. But in order to do that they must convince the President she was worth it.

"We have already discovered that we are different from her biologically, most likely from the rest of the human race from her era too." Spoke up one particularly brave man.

"Yes, no doubt from the war they caused and the bio-weapons. What do we gain from that knowledge?" President Snow replied in frustration.

They looked around at each other again trying to think of something else. The fact that it was simple _interesting_ wouldn't be enough to convince this man.

"We could learn what sort of technology they had back then. There may well be something that could benefit Panem." A different man put forward. Seeing Snow's tolerance for his response he continued. "There is also the Time travel aspect, if we could find out if there is something special about this girl that caused it we could harness the power somehow. And we needn't keep her long; she could be kept captive in this facility until we are finished learning what we need." He finished with a hopeful tone, stroking his decorative beard nervously.

Snow looked from him to his fellow members and noted their optimistic expressions. It certainly wouldn't hurt to give them something to play with for a while. And perhaps if they found anything of significance then he could generate some interest in the Society and persuade a few more of the wealthier citizens to join and contribute their generous donations.

"Very well Seneca, you have persuaded me. You have one month to discover something magnificent. However none of this will reach the media…" He struck a meaningful look at one man in particular who was head of a very popular newspaper. " …And no word of this will reach anybody outside of the society. You shall even hold your tongues around any avox outside of this building. She will not be permitted to step foot outside or mingle with the crowds and cause havoc. You will keep me informed on all aspects of this investigation. Am I understood?"

They all murmured their agreement, each relieved at the outcome. President Snow rose and exited the room, leaving them to sigh in relief and finally grin to one another at the success of the meeting.

oOo

Carrie sat patiently in the white tiled room whilst listening to Professor Merrin gave her a brief overview of recent history as soldiers pointed guns at her from all angles. It was almost a compliment really that they thought they needed so any to overpower her. The way she felt right now the professor alone could probably defeat her. Her temperature had yet to lower and she'd had to lie down again when she became to weak to sit.

"…And that brings us to this year; the 73rd Hunger Games in around 2 months." He finally finished, taking in Carrie's thoughtful expression.

"We really screwed up bad didn't we, I mean; the people in my time. We caused a massive war **and **let global warming destroy a large portion of the planet just because we didn't care enough to change the way we lived. And now North America has no outside contact with the rest of the world, and you kill at least 24 people each year for sport." She summed up in disgust.

"You must understand Carrie, it isn't a sport; is punishment to the districts for rising up against the Capitol. Several of the districts actually have volunteers very happy to compete for the pride of winning. Only 23 die in the games, we always have a victor." He explained somewhat patiently.

"Hmmm having blood on their hands doesn't sound like much of a victory to me. I don't think I could live with that sort of taint without having done it for a very good reason" She scrunched her nose up, frowning.

Professor Merrin was about to reply when another man slid into the room.

"Ah Seneca, this is Carrie Smith. Carrie, this is Head Game Maker Seneca Crane."

"Pleased to meet you Miss Smith." Seneca said smoothly, extending his hand in friendly greeting, withdrawing it though when Carrie frowned and looked at him, distrust plain to read in her eyes.

"We have just been discussing the Games Seneca, how are your preparations for this year coming?" Merrin asked jovially, hoping a cheerful discussion on the subject might warm Carrie to them.

"All is well and good. We have a few more things to finish up but we shall be ready for them." He replied with a smile. "I have good news Carrie; you will be able to enjoy our hospitality for a while longer and I also have permission for you to leave this room. Perhaps we could take a stroll to the balcony overlooking the city."

"I wouldn't advise she do much walking until she is fully recovered. Perhaps a chair for her to be wheeled in would be appropriate. Would you like to see the city Carrie?"

"Yes please. Could I have a blanket as well? This is a little revealing." She said quietly, pulling at the gown she was wearing which had an open back.

"Certainly. Now then, you must promise to be on your best behaviour though if you want to stay out of the restraints." He wagged his finger, no doubt in an attempt to be playful. It probably would have been more effective without the armed guards. Nonetheless she nodded obediently and watched as he released her legs, allowing her to rub some more feeling into them and wiggle them about a bit.

Seneca watched with interest. She was really rather a plain girl with dark blonde, almost reddish hair and ordinary blue eyes. When he watched from the other side of the two-way mirror he had discussed with a few of the other society members what they might be able to learn from her. Right now he couldn't decide if she was naturally obedient or if the fear of everything that had happened was subduing her for the time being. It would be easier if she followed instructions easily and did as she was told. She has seemed more animated though before he entered, now seemed shy almost, as she had when the professor had first entered. She would have to learn that the Games were not to be criticized though, and soon. President Snow would not tolerate anything bad said against them and it was vital they be allowed to keep her alive long enough to question her thoroughly.

A blanket was brought in along with a wheelchair and Carrie slowly lowered herself into it, wrapping the blanket around to protect her modesty. The gown was not that thick and was see-through enough for Seneca to smirk lecherously. Carrie noticed and blushed profusely, pulling the blanket around her chest tighter. She realised in her movements that she was naked of any body hair, particularly near her private area, and was mortified at what they had done while she was unconscious. Anger would come later, but right now she was too self-conscious.

"Allow me." Seneca interjected silkily, taking over the wheelchair handles from Professor Merrin. Three of the guards led whilst the others followed behind.

"I can't even sit up for long, let alone run off. Do you really think its necessary to have all the guns?" Carrie asked curiously when they left the room.

"Just a precaution Miss Smith. Now then Professor; we had the meeting with President Snow and we only have one month to find out all we can before he intervenes. No information is to leave the Society, as I'm sure you could guess, and she is to be confined to this building. Hamsford is arranging her quarters for the duration of her stay and Reyson is working on a plan and timetable with the rest of the group."

Carrie didn't particularly like the sound of much of that. What happened at the end of the month? And she was certainly being held captive if she wasn't allowed to leave. Frankly she still thought this might be some sort of elaborate practical joke, but it was rather excessive and would serve no purpose. She was also always one to believe in the more outrageous possibilities of things, which naturally made her lean towards believing them. As a child, she was always being called gullible.

Carrie took in her surroundings silently as the travelled quietly through the corridors. The walls were painted a dark shade of red but the soft cream carpet and chandeliers hanging at intervals from the high ceiling kept it from looking ominous, it felt rather warm instead.

Eventually, after many twists and turns, they came to a set of glass double doors leading out to the balcony. From her current distance Carrie still couldn't see what lay beyond but she was eager to see what this Capitol looked like. The three guards ahead of them opened the doors and stood waiting for them outside. As soon as Carrie was wheeled out, the four rear guards covered the doors, stopping them from exiting without their permission.

Carrie eagerly stood to see over the wall once Seneca stopped pushing her and she was gob smacked at the sight that greeted her. Intimidating grey buildings of all sizes littered the city enclosed by mountains. Some structures were taller than she ever could have imagined, and see-through tube-like objects jutted out from the sides of others running the height of them. A particularly menacing building dominated her view and she stared at it for a long while, taking in the flags hanging from the front.

"That is the president's mansion flying our flag. There are 13 different designs; one for each of the districts and that one for Capitol." Seneca spoke softly, seeing where her gaze lingered.

"There are no trees anywhere…" she whispered back, looking around and desperately hoping to see something natural in this dismal place; the overcast sky made it even gloomier. Brightly coloured figures strutted along the pavements and oddly shaped vehicles sped along streets. Carrie reached out to lean against the wall but found she couldn't; her hand kept bouncing back. And the harder she pushed the more forceful her hand returned.

"It's a force field, to stop any regrettable accidents happening." Seneca explained, answering her quizzical expression.

"I think I might be starting to believe you all a little more about the year." She replied, fascinated with the barrier.

"Did you not have these where you came from then?" Seneca asked inquisitively. Carrie let out a peal of laughter.

"Of course not. Well, certainly not to my knowledge." She responded, still prodding the barrier, watching it shimmer faintly when she made contact. "Could I see some newspapers please? And perhaps some recently published books if it's not too much trouble." She asked politely, turned her attention to Professor Merrin who smiled indulgently.

"Of course, I'll have them sent to your room immediately. Why don't you stay here a while longer for some fresh air. I'm sure Seneca will keep you company." With that he left back the way they came.

Carrie and Seneca stood in silence for a while longer, looking out at the city until she quietly started to talk, more to herself than anything.

"Part of me feels like this might even be a dream but it's just too _real._ When I was out there in the mountains it was terrifying. I didn't know if I was going to die from dehydration or be attacked by wild animals. My brother had taught me some survival tips, but I couldn't use much of it without knowing the plants. When that hovercraft thing arrived I was so relieved; I thought I'd be able to go home and see my family again…but they're gone. Everything I knew is gone. How am I supposed to survive here? I'm a prisoner in a world I know nothing about, without friends of allies, with nowhere to run to I am completely in your power." Tears started to fall and she sat back down in the wheelchair and held the blanket to her breast; trying to find comfort from it. Seneca observed wordlessly. It hadn't occurred to him before that she might be missing her home; he had been too wrapped up in the excitement of her appearance and what it could mean for his status in Capitol society.

"I think that's enough fresh air for now. Lets get you back." He whispered, and motioned for the guards to lead whilst he pushed Carrie's wheelchair towards her new quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N: **This one took a while because I wrote several different versions of this chapter before settling on this one, since how Carrie reacts in these first few days sets the tone for her overall personality for this story, which took a bit of deciding. Also I'm writing later chapters at the same time as the ideas come to me.

0o0o0o0

"The quarters are on the east wing of this floor. Room 319" Seneca called ahead to one of the soldiers escorting him and Carrie to her new quarters. She'd stayed silent since her small speech on the balcony, and her eyes had lost a certain spark as she stared ahead dully. The full force of the situation was starting to settle on her; she hadn't had time to think on all the different aspects when she had been tied down and questioned; when she didn't know is she was going to be released or executed. Now that she knew she was to be confined here and questioned, in a country she didn't belong…in a _time_ she didn't belong; the reality of it all was setting in with an overwhelming pressure.

They soon arrived at door 319 and Seneca rolled her in, parking the chair beside the bed just left of the doorway.

"I'll leave you to get settled in." He gave her a polite tilt of his head, turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

Carrie looked up and bleakly took in the room. The main room was both bedroom and living room combined, with the sofa acting as room divider. Oddly, the bedroom was the first part of the room and the living area was further in. The large bed was just left of the doorway and a huge wardrobe fit between the bed and wall. A massive window took up the entire wall opposite on the far side of the room. Carrie stood, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around her body, and shuffled the few feet to her queen size bed As she did though, one of the soldiers still in her room made his way to her side, making her visibly jump and stare at him warily. There were 5 of them still with her she noticed. _The other 2 must be guarding the other side of the door._ She realised. When the soldier holstered his weapon and reached out she started to back away in fear further onto the bed.

"We won't hurt you." He said in a deep calming voice. She then realised he was handing her a strange metallic remote control.

"Changing the settings of the window also changes the room settings." He explained, passing her the object. As she ran her fingers over it the touch screen came to life. A large blue button was labelled CAPITOL, 12 smaller ones were numbered, and two long double buttons at the top had HIGH written at one end and LOW written on the other. Carrie experimentally pointed at the window, touched button 4 and watched in awe as the view of the window began to morph and distort until is showed a sunny beach. She jumped when the sound of waves started to roll around the apartment and the light became brighter to match the sun on the beach. Seagulls could be heard off in the distance and it was hypnotically relaxing.

She pressed one of the long buttons and the sound of the sea increased, when she touched the other the light brightened. Deciding it was too bright to begin with she lowered it and set the controller down on the bedside table.

"Are you hungry Miss Smith?" the same guard asked. She shook her head and lay down shivered on the bed.

"No, I'm not feeling too good. I just want to sleep." She said timidly wondering why they were still in the room. Picking up on her discomfort the soldier answered her unspoken question.

"We are to watch you until our superiors say otherwise." Carrie nodded and stayed quiet. She shuffled under the thick quilt in the centre of the bed and watched the armed men silently and awkwardly.

0o0o0

"What do you think?" Professor Merrin turned to the group of men and woman standing with him in the surveillance room on a lower floor in the same building. Each had a different expression as they looked up at the four huge screens that showed a different aspect of Carrie's quarters; one for the bathroom, one for the kitchenette, and two for the main room. Currently two of the screens were filled with a different angle of their prisoner.

"How long is she likely to be ill for? She won't be much use moping around like that." Asked one woman with a disappointed grimace.

"It could make her easier to get information out of if her defences are down." Retaliated a rather large man who was smiling slyly.

"If she has any information worth discovering, that is." Offered another man sceptically.

"She'll be interesting none the less and she should be healthy soon. We know very little of life before our time so there must be something she can tell us that will be useful. She certainly seemed interested in the window, it's probably safe to say she hasn't seen technology quite like ours before." Merrin cut in.

"We could use it to our advantage. Show her the best of Capitol technology to keep her interested in our visits. We'll be interrogating her every day and she will tire of it quickly if she gets nothing in return." Said someone else.

"I believe you are right Reyson. When do we starting the questioning?" Seneca asked the green wigged woman

"Tomorrow morning. Merrin, send her the newspapers and books with an avox. It'll be best if she doesn't see any of us until we start in the morning. She still isn't well and could use the rest." Reyson advised. "Also call off the guards inside with her, we can see she's uncomfortable with them in there with her and it'll be good to see what she's like when she doesn't know she's being watched. Lets just keep two outside her room though.

"I think we should keep one in there just in case she tries to do something or if there's an emergency. They are all trained in basic healing after all and it could mean the difference between life and death if she tries to off herself." Seneca spoke up.

The all murmured their agreement and Merrin called an avox to take the supplies to room 319 while several of the Society members left for their own homes for the night.

0o0o0

Back in Carrie's room the radio of the lead soldier crackled to life and a voice gave orders into his earpiece. He relayed the message to the 4 other peacekeepers in the room for them to leave; he was to stay. A few moments later a man in a red uniform carrying a bundle of books and magazines entered the room. He put them silently on the bedside table and left without saying a word. Carrie watched and waited until he'd left before reaching over to the books. She noticed the guard still standing there.

"Are soldiers allowed to sit while on duty?" she asked

"We are not soldiers. We are peacekeepers." He replied in the same deep voice as earlier.

"Oh…what's the difference?"

"There are no soldiers in Panem because there is no war. We are merely here to keep things in order. We only step in when necessary." He explained with little expression.

"No war sounds nice. My people had always dreamt and talked of such a thing but it never seemed possible. Why don't you sit down? I'm not going anywhere and it'll be uncomfortable for you to stand all night."

He shook his head, declining. Carrie just shrugged and leafed through the books. A few of them seemed new and when she opened the first few pages the published date confirmed what she suspected; it was around the same year the Professor had told her it was.

"Looks like he was telling the truth." She murmured to herself. She carried on flicking through them for a while and realised most were poetry books and only a few were history. One of the poetry books was divided into District category. It seemed there was a definite theme for each one. The history books only touched on things and Carrie was sure there must be more but it seemed pretty bleak. The magazines had a much more cheerful tone to them, filled with gossip and fashion.

The sound of the sea and birds, combined with the fading light was beginning to make Carrie sleepy but she felt too vulnerable to go to sleep with the man standing nearby. She laid back resting her head amongst the fluffy pillows, turning towards him with half lidded eye.

"Why is the light getting dimmer?" she asked softly

"It reflects the live time. As you can see the sun is just setting." He answered, motioning to the beach scene window. Sure enough the sun was on the horizon, the sky was darkening, and the birds were getting quieter leaving just the sound of the sea brushing against the shore.

"Will you…will you be staying all night?" she asked with obvious discomfort

"It is only a precautionary measure. With the drugs still in your system there is still a danger something could go wrong." He said. "If it makes you more comfortable I shall go to the living area while you sleep." He added. She nodded shyly and watched him go and sit in one of the far armchairs. He was still facing her but the distance was more comfortable. With a huge yawn she settled down under the quilt and eventually fell into a restless sleep.

The peacekeeper kept watch all night as the girl tossed and turned. Her fever broke in the early hours of the morning and she slept a little easier after that. Finally, as the sun was rising, Carrie woke and looked around bewilderedly until she remembered where she was.

"Would you like some water Miss Smith?" Asked the Peacekeeper from beside her. He was already holding it in his hands.

"Yes please." She rasped, accepting the offered glass of water, draining it greedily.

"The bathroom is through there if you would like to freshen up." The same peacekeeper motioned to the furthest door a little way down the wall on the right hand side of the room.

Carrie shuffled to the bathroom with a blanket carefully wrapped around for modest. She realised awkwardly that there was no long on the door. Taking her chances she let her coverings fall to the ground. Once in the shower she was faced with an overly extensive number of buttons. Pulling a face she experimentally pushed one, which was labelled temperature control, and yelped when cold water shot out and hit her squarely in the back. Deciding to play safe she stood pressed up against the door of the shower and pushed the buttons again. She discovered that there were 5 strategically placed nozzles for the water to come out of and several others for shampoos, conditioners, and a variety of liquid soaps. Eventually managing to get the water to a steady jet from above at a suitable temperature Carrie gingerly stepped in again. Sighing in relief she sank to the floor and let it all wash over her. She thought of how exciting it would be to tell her family about the technology here, before remembering that she wouldn't be able to. She might never be able to get home and that set her off in a fresh round of tears, her frail body shaking with the force of her sobs.

0o0o0

Inside the surveillance room a security man had kept a bored gaze on room 319 all night with nothing of great interest happening, apart from when she kicked the covers half off around midnight and he was treated to the view of one of her naked thighs. _There are occasional perks to this job_ he smirked to himself, and at the moment he was able to watch the teenager in the shower. T_hough it isn't particularly erotic with her blubbering like that._

It was at that moment that Seneca and Reyson walked in, each cradling a hot cup of rich coffee.

"Anything interesting happen in the night?" the woman asked, wearing a purple wig this morning.

"No ma'am. Fitful sleep is all." The three of them watched as she finished in the shower and wrapped a towel round her body. They changed positions to face the screen shot of the main room when she walked in there.

0o0o0

The peacekeeper had left, Carrie was relieved to notice and she began rifling through the wardrobe. The clothes ranged from slightly bizarre to completely horrendous. Chunky jewels and strips of spandex hung from one particular skirt that Carrie silently vowed never to wear. A neon pink top had huge amounts of padding at the shoulders, and their matching shoes had heels so high they looked downright painful. Managing to find an ordinary looking set of lingerie first, Carrie eventually selected a pair of black leggings whose only embellishments were some silver studs down the sides, and a pale green tunic that hung a little baggy on her. However she found a thick brown satin ribbon sharing the hanger of a different shirt and used it as a belt around her waist; pulling the tunic into a more flattering shape. She decided to stay barefooted since the carpet was so thick and luxurious, and she remembered what the man with the strange beard had said yesterday about being confined to this building. There was no point wearing shoes if she wasn't going anywhere.

0o0o0

"Looks like she doesn't think much of our fashion." Reyson said, laughing as their girl tugged inquisitively on the skirt and pulled a face of repulsion at the pink top.

"We're going to have to teach her how to dress properly too. Is she wearing that hair wrap ribbon as a belt?" Seneca asked, mystified by her ignorance.

"Apparently so. Shall we head down there then? We'll start while she has breakfast. Hamsford, Jodette, and Gache start their session with her at lunch."

"Very well. Do you have anything in particular you want to ask her?" Seneca asked as they travelled up on the elevator.

"I'm curious to find out more about how she grew up. What this village was like and how the people interacted with each other. What about you?"

"Games of course." Seneca smirked. "If I can find out something truly golden from her and use it in the Games I could go down in history as the best Game-Maker who ever lived. Perhaps they had game-shows back then."

0o0o0

"Are you decent Miss Smith?" The peacekeeper called from another room. Carrie jumped, she thought he'd left.

"Y-yes" she stammered. Tugging at the tunic to make sure it covered everything. She followed the direction his voice had come from and found a small kitchen. The far wall had a counter running the width with only a tall fridge/freezer in the centre breaking it up. What looked to be an oven stood left of the doorway.

"I can show you how to order food and drink if you like Miss Smith?" The peacekeeper was cradling his own mug of coffee as he sat on a stool at an island breakfast counter.

"Yes please. And you can call me Carrie." She smiled

"It wouldn't be proper for me to Miss Smith." He informed her. He seemed much less menacing this morning Carrie decided. Perhaps it was that he wasn't in a group of other armed men. Or the fact he hadn't taken advantage of her last night/

He walked her over to tall silver fridge and opened the door.

"As you can see it is currently empty." He shut the door again. "You can order what you want from this screen here though. It won't cost you anything since you are a guest of the Capitol." With a swipe of his fingers over the surface a screen morphed into view. Carrie stood dumbstruck as he scrolled through what must have been hundreds of options.

" So long as you choose something that is in stock –can you see that green icon there? – Then when you next open the fridge it will be in there." He explained. "Here, give it a go."

Carrie looked at him sideways. _How could something just appear in the there?_ But she followed his instructions and scrolled through the foods using the touch screen. She decided on a bowl of fruit salad and sure enough when she opened the fridge it was sitting in there. Wide eyes she removed it, put it on the counter, and tried again. This time she selected whipped cream; mildly surprised it had the same name as in her time. And when she opened the door a bowl of the stuff was sitting in the centre just as the fruit had been.

"This is amazing how on earth does it work?" she gasped. Troubles momentarily forgotten.

"Classified information I'm afraid Miss Smith." Came the amused reply.

0o0o0

Seneca and Ms Reyson found Carrie at the breakfast table surrounded by various foods and drinks. An empty bowl stood to the side of her, and a partly eaten bowl of popcorn was on the other. Several glasses stood empty arund her. She was halfway through eating a plate of Bolognese – the peacekeeper assured her the meat was beef from a cow and not some other creature – however she was making it into a sandwich filling between two slices of toast.

"That thing is magical." She stated in awe when her captors walked through the doorway. An amused smile flickered across Seneca's face when he saw her, wide-eyed and still-damp hair.

"I take it you don't have that where you come from then?" his eyes glinted

"We had touch screens but we couldn't just make the food…appear! How on earth does it work? It's physically impossible surely!"

Seneca smiled a genuine smile at her enthusiasm. If she were in a good mood she would cooperate better.

"It's a secret I'm afraid Miss Smith. But we have plenty more things where that came from. Anyway good morning, I trust you a feeling better?"

"A little yes. I miss my family though. Do you know if I'll be able to get back?" She asked, almost fearing the answer.

"We are working on it Miss Smith." Lied the wigged woman smoothly. Carrie was taken aback when she was pulled in for a hug and got kissed both her cheeks. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"A little restless, but I feel better than last night. Please, will you call me Carrie? It feels so formal being called 'Miss Smith' all the time like I've done something wrong." She said stepping back and reclaiming her personal space.

"Very well Carrie. My name is Ms Reyson, I believe you met Head Game maker Crane last night?"

Carrie nodded head; wet hair bouncing as she did. Seneca took in her appearance and another small smile flew across his face when his eyes landed on the ribbon-belt. She seemed much friendlier than yesterday he decided, and offered his hand to shake again to see if she would take it this time. She did, with a smile to boot.

"Now then Carrie, have you eaten enough or would you like to finish your breakfast before we head next door?" Ms Reyson asked politely. She certainly seemed kind enough, despite her rather forward behaviour displayed moments ago.

"I'm finished. I think I ate enough for three people in my hunger." She laughed, piling the dishes up and looked around for the sink.

"Where do I put this?" She asked her peacekeeper who was once again standing silent.

"An Avox shall come and clean it up later dear." Reyson told her.

"Is an Avox like a cleaning person in a hotel then?" she asked

"An Avox is a traitor to the Capitol. They have their tongues cut out and serve as punishment." Seneca said, steering her into the living area when she slowed to look at him in shock.

"Big on punishment here." She murmured more to herself than anything.

"Crimes must not go unpunished Carrie. It is how we keep the peace and why we have no war." Seneca said with a hard look. She supposed it made sense, when she thought of all the criminals walking the street in her time.

"Yes I suppose so." She agreed slowly and sat down on the sofa as instructed by Seneca's steering.

0o0o0

The morning passed both slowly and in a blur. The three spoke of so many different things Carrie struggled to remember every detail, however every time she looked at the clock the hands hardly seemed to have moved at all.

Seneca concluded she was naturally driven to obey which was a blessing for them all. He put it to the test when he asked for a drink and she leapt to her feet instantly asking what he would like, and also asked Ms Reyson very politely if she would like something as well. Carrie even asked the peacekeeper much to Seneca's amusement. He explained his reasoning to the curious Reyson while the girl was getting them all drinks.

In actuality Carrie was simply terrified of putting a step wrong and getting shot on the spot, or having her tongue cut out. She'd much rather serve with a tongue than without, the thought gave her shivers.

By early afternoon Seneca and Reyson finished up and left Carrie in peace to have some lunch before the others arrived. The girl nodded her head in thanks and walked with them to the door.

0o0o0

The three people who came to visit while Carrie was eating her sandwich were eccentric and weird in her opinion. The woman Jodette had laughed in a stupidly shrill pitch when she saw Carrie's make-shift belt and had explained, in what the woman must have assumed was a kind way, that Carrie had a barbaric sense of style and was obviously in need of help. The insulting peacock-like lady then proceeded to circle Carrie like a predator and eventually exclaimed –

"It's no good. She needs a stylist."

And flounced out the room. It was the only thing Carrie was actually impressed with about the woman. Being able to flounce in 5-inch heels was a remarkable feat.

"That was Jodette Keans. Her father is high in the Capitol and runs his own company so she can be a little spoilt. Don't call her Miss Keans she hates it, say's its an unfashionable title and much prefers her first name. My name is Hamsford. Do you like your quarters?" He asked kindly. Carrie was pretty sure he was wearing contacts; there was no human alive who could have naturally purple eyes. His matching spiked hair was fine but the purple jumpsuit and sparkling belt was a bit over the top perhaps.

"They are lovely thank you. Is Jodette coming back?"

"She'll be searching for a stylist for you. Don't worry I'm sure she'll find someone good and return tomorrow. My name is Gache." The second man said with a haughty look. He was wearing false eyelashes and even had makeup on. His outfit was made up of muted colours until the sparkly silver jacket.

The woman never came back much to Carrie's relief. Hamsford questioned her deeply about poetry from her era of which she couldn't tell him much. She did recite a few of her favourites for about one hundred years before she was born though. He was delighted with the new material he had to research from but did consider it much more archaic than his own 'flowing talent'. He was a bit full of himself really, but apparently he as a popular poet in the Capitol and had a large number of his material published and a couple of books. It was how he could afford to be a member of the Society that was currently holding her captive.

"Of course I knew straight away we'd get along, I read a few of your poems in that little notebook of yours." He whispered conspiratorially. Carrie turned bright red

"You read that?" she asked horrified. She was highly embarrassed about what she wrote and no one had seen it before as she generally tried to keep it a secret hobby.

"Of course. Don't worry you'll get your things back soon enough, we just need to check through and make sure everything is in order. Though I must say some of the things you write are a bit dark and dirty for my taste." He said with a cheeky wink. Carrie, embarrassedly she hid her face in her hands and ignored the arrogant man's laughter.

0o0o0

The stars were up and the recorded birds were silent. The only sounds in room 319 were the waves of the sea lapping against the shore in her video window. Carrie was alone tonight since her Peacekeeper was relieved of having to watch her. She was certain he must have had some sort of drug to keep him awake so long, he'd only left after the two men had at dinner time. Their version of dinnertime was much later than hers though and at 10 PM she was beyond hunger. Without even bothering to eat Carrie simply lay down on the bed. It was exhausting speaking all day and being interrogated; on her life, what she knew of game shows, poetry, different pets and their popularity. It turned out the sullen man in the sparkly jacket wasn't a people person but he sure did love animals. That alone warmed Carrie to him slightly despite his horrible attitude.

It was only her first proper day here and she was sick of it. She was sick of the stupid attitude of these shallow people, she was sick of the loneliness of it all, she was sick of having to answer questions all day. She half wished they'd get it over with and execute her if that's what they were planning at the end of her time here. _But the woman…that Reyson woman said they were working on getting me home. _She tried to reassure herself. Her emotions where all over the place; one minute she was on the verge of tears thinking of her home, the next she was amazed at their technology and what she was learning here. The quiet now was the worst part of it all though. It wasn't too bad with the peacekeeper here the previous night. Even awkward armed company was better than being alone in a strange room.

0o0o0

Seneca stayed late that night watching the girl in her bed. All she did was sit there with a disturbingly blank look on her face. She did nothing; not even cry. She never touched the books or magazines on the bedside table, and Seneca didn't think she was even paying attention to the views of the moonlit sea. He was certain she didn't know she was being watched when she slipped the tunic over her head and simply lay back on the bed without bothering to cover herself with a blanket. He fiddled with a dial for her room next to the screen, turning the temperature up so she wouldn't get cold, and left for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N: **Had no Internet access for a week but got the next few chapters mostly written now so it's all good. Thank you for all the lovely reviews they really help me keep going.

0o0o0o0

"Three weeks. I've been here for three bloody weeks and I'm bored out of my skull. Can I please go out somewhere?" Carrie had yet to get out of bed and was currently pleading her case with Seneca. The two had developed an almost friendship-like relationship in the past few weeks; largely due to his respect of her personal space and his behaviour was much more normal. It also helped that his clothes weren't as peculiar as the others'.

"I'm sorry Carrie, but we have our orders. We can't have a time-traveller wandering loose about the city." He said gently.

"I'm not a time trave_ller_, I time-_travelled_. One time." She grumbled back with a grouchy expression.

"Does that not make you a time traveller then?"

"No, it was only one time. Find a way for me to travel back to my time and I'll accept the title time-traveller." She sniffed. Seneca laughed under his breath.

"You do have a bizarre logic girl." That got a small smile out of her.

"I was always getting told that. It makes sense to me though." She glanced up at him. He was currently sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I wish I could go back. Have you lot found a way yet?"

"Not yet I'm afraid. I have got a present for you though; we found a way to get your photos off the camera and they're getting printed now. You should be able to hang a few up and the rest can go in an album. It was a bit fiddly because of course our methods didn't match with your ways but the Tech geniuses finally worked out a way to get the pictures off."

At this news Carrie bolted into a sitting position and smiled widely at him.

"You promise? You really managed to print them out?"

"I promise. They should be with you this afternoon." He assured her with his own smile. "Now then, lets get you ready. Jodette is still on about getting you a blasted stylist; Reyson has to keep reminding her there's no point since you have no publicity things to do. The least we can do is ease the young woman's badgering and make an effort in your appearance. Really though you must stop wearing the hair ribbons as belts."

"They work better as belts. I refuse to wear wigs just to have ribbons in my hair. And I'm fed up of examinations. Surely you're all bored to tears having to listen to me talk all day." She groaned, though still got to her feet and made her way to the wardrobe obediently. "What about this? It should be suitably sparkly." She scowled at the sequined dress

Seneca shook his head. "You need to wear something loose that will show plenty of flesh." He would have sworn he heard Carrie mutter 'pervert' as she dove back into the wardrobe.

"What about this?" In one hand she held a strappy top, which had strings of clear beads for straps and see-through mesh netting from just under the breasts down to the hips. In her other hand was a pair of simple-by-Capitol-standards shorts. "And why do I have to show loads of skin?"

"That's fine. Today we'll be hooking you up to a device when we ask you questions to see how you react both mentally and physically. Wearing revealing clothes makes it easier to apply the patches that'll be connected to the machine. Now get dressed or we'll be late." He disappeared into the kitchen so she could have some privacy as she dressed.

0o0o0

The two walked along in silence. Carrie was deep in thought thinking about her time in the Capitol so far. Despite being confined to the building, it wasn't so bad. They had been incredibly civil and most had been kind. It was almost comforting the way the daily routine was always the same. Every person in the Society had questioned her, some more than others. Head Game Maker Crane, Ms Reyson, and Mr Hamsford frequented her quarters the most. The corridors were easier to navigate now that she was familiar with them and she often walked to the balcony for some fresh air and to view the City she despised so much. She despised Cities and built up areas in general though so it wasn't necessarily the Capitol itself.

The next part of the trip upstairs was Carrie's least favourite: The elevator. During Carrie's first week she was shown the elevator that ran up the side of the tower in a clear glass tube. Expecting her to be thrilled and delighted with the views available it came as a shock to the people with her when she turned a pale shade of green, clamped her eyes shut and held onto the rail doubled over trying not to heave. Apparently she was afraid of them, something even she hadn't known. Unfortunately there were no stairs in the building, only elevators, so every time she had to travel to another floor she suffered dreadfully with the journey.

"Is it over yet?" she asked in a strained voice from the confined space.

"Nearly." Seneca murmured. A couple more floors and it smoothly glided to a stop. With a soft hush the doors slid open.

"Thank God for that. Give me moment please." Immensely relieved, Carrie stumbled into the corridor and leant against the wall breathing deeply waiting for her stomach to stop churning. "It's the motion of it. I still can't get over the feeling that we're going to go plummeting to our deaths at any moment." She admitted with a shaky laugh. Pushing off the wall she nodded to Seneca indicating she was fine to start again. He led the way until they reached the laboratory door, with his hand guiding her at the base of her back Seneca moved Carrie inside.

It was a room much like the one she had woken up in three weeks ago. Circular and tiled in white it had a definite clinical feel to it. There was more equipment in this one though.

"Ah you finally got her up then Crane." Professor Merrin remarked cheerfully. He leant forward to brush Carrie's cheeks with a kiss. She still hadn't got used to that Capitol greeting and they still hadn't got used to her dislike of mornings. Now she was more settled, if she was left to her own devices she'd sleep far into mid morning. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a problem for them but with only one week left to research her they felt this still had a lot to cover. Carrie thought they'd covered far too much; discussing the age at which she started menstruating was the most embarrassing meeting.

"Now then Carrie, has Seneca told you what we'd be doing today?" He asked eagerly.

"Briefly. You're going to be monitoring my responses to questions using some sort of machine." She replied dutifully.

"Right you are. If you come sit down here and I'll get you hooked up. Good choice of clothes by the way, nice easy access."

Carrie shifted uncomfortably, tugging the netting of the top self-consciously. She let the professor push her shoulders until she lay down and lay stiffly as his hands got to work attaching patches hooked up to wires strategically over her body. Seneca saw her press her eyes closed tightly when the thigh patches were attached and went over to squeeze her hand comfortingly.

"It really won't hurt. You won't feel anything going on and we'll be in the next room. The questions will be asked through a speaker system. All you have to do is lay still and answer the questions honestly." He explained as the professor finished hooking everything up and switched the machine on. With everything in place Carrie had patches on all her main pulse points on her body, and some sort of cap on with more colourful wires was fitted to her head.

"Right, try not to wriggle too much and just answer honestly." Merrin smiled. He and Seneca left her in the room alone to greet the rest of the Society in the viewing room.

This was something a number of the people were interested in. They had answers from her, but now they could find out how she felt while answering them. The devises for this experiment had only just been cleared which is why they had been unable to do this in the last few weeks.

"We're picking up some distress from her." Reyson stated, writing down the readings from Carrie the screen was currently showing.

"What are you currently thinking about Carrie?" Professor Merrin asked through the speaker.

Inside the room they watched Carrie jump slightly at the sudden voice.

"Um…about when I woke up in a room like this when I got here. It's very similar." She replied hesitantly.

"If it helps this is a completely different room. We have several like this in the building. Now lets get started. Could you tell us about your family?"

"I lived with my mum, dad, and brother. My parents didn't get on that well but made an effort for my brother and me. My brother and I have always been close and as he got older he became more protective of me." Carrie started out stuttering but spoke more confidently as she went on.

"Becoming happy at the mention of her brother." Reyson spoke quietly so the message wouldn't reach the speaker.

"In what way was your brother protective?" Asked Merrin, making small notes on his clipboard.

"He'd make sure people were nice to me when he was around and if he found out someone was mean to me he'd go and speak to them. He never said what they spoke about but they wouldn't bother me again. And when our parents argued he'd come into my room and comfort me when we were younger. As we got older he'd take me out to the park so we wouldn't have to listen." She said, a small smile gracing her lips.

Seneca watched with interest. She's spoken of her family a few times but never went into too much detail. This brother of hers truly seemed to be important to her.

"What are some of your favourite memories growing up?" Merrin asked.

Carrie thought for a moment before answering. It was almost easy to forget the cables and monitoring if she didn't think of it too much.

"Probably playing with my brother. We would sometimes argue but usually he was nice to me. I think the 6 year age difference plays a big part in that."

"We're getting a bit off track here Carrie, just talk about the memories please." Merrin said

"Distress signals again Merrin, remember she doesn't like doing things wrong." Reyson murmured.

"Uh…Um…being around our pets, going riding, swimming, Carrie stammered hurriedly.

"It's alright Carrie just relax and take you're time. This is going very well." Seneca took over the speaker from his colleague. Almost instantly the signals she was unconsciously sending them started to relax and show calmness. She took a few deep breaths before starting again.

"I always liked being outdoors and exploring. I had a few friends and we'd play up the park together and act out our favourite cartoon and movie scenes." Carrie started again in a much calmer manner.

Professor Merrin shoved the list of questions in front of Seneca, relinquishing control to the Game Maker. They carried on for nearly two hours until they came to the last question.

"How do you feel being here in the Capitol?"

At this Carrie faltered. "It's nice. Most people have been kind to me and my quarters are very comfortable. I like it." She answered.

"Signals indicate she's lying."

"How do you _feel_?" Seneca asked again, with more force.

"Lonely…sad…worried." Carrie quietly admitted after a long pause.

0o0o0

"You did well Carrie." Seneca praised as he began unhooking her from the machine. "Though I must say your emotions change ever so frequently, we were unable to keep up on occasion. Doesn't that give you a headache?"

"Sometimes. But I've always been like that. Small and insignificant things just act like a trigger and suddenly my mood will change. I'm able to hide it most of the time but being hooked up to this obviously gave you guys the ability to notice." She shrugged. "What's happening this afternoon then?"

"Nothing much for you. We all have a meeting with the president to review how you're doing. Are you okay to get back to your room? I need to go up a few levels with the others."

"Yeah I'll head there now. Thanks for helping with the wires." She flashed him a quick smile and exited the room, giving a little wave to the others who were just emerging from the observation room. Once she was round the corner a few gave out little chuckles of amusement.

"What's so funny?" Seneca demanded walking out the room.

"You forgot to switch off the machine before unhooking her. The pleasure signals were skyrocketing when you started touching her. She obviously sees something in you we don't." Merrin tittered.

"Well for goodness' sake don't say anything to her about it. You know how sensitive that girl can be and its even been recorded now for future reference." Seneca lectured, ignoring them and striding off to the west-wing elevators.

0o0o0

The meeting with the president was not going well. Snow had read through the overview notes that had been passed to him and saw the results from that morning.

"Your girl seems to be out growing her uses. We have better information from history books that were preserved."

Nobody quite knew what to say. They couldn't lie without fear of being punished. The harsh truth was that Carrie _had _out grown her use. Most of the members didn't care now that they had their information, but a few like Seneca and Merrin had grown fond of having the girl around.

"No argument in her favour? How disappointing." Snow said in his dangerously soft voice. "In any case. I should like to meet the girl tomorrow before deciding her fate. Make sure she is presentable."

Seneca sat in thought long after the others had left. He wasn't one to be confused easily, so being baffled about his own mixed feelings for the girl was beyond irritating. Squashing the thoughts down he gave a sigh and realised she actually did need a stylist now. Jodette would be over the moon with glee.

0o0o0

Carrie was just emerging from the luxurious shower when the Avox brought her a note on a silver platter. It was short and to the point. It spread fear running through her like ice; she was to meet the man who would decide her fate in the Capitol in less than 24 hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

0o0o0o0

Carrie was anxiously nibbling her lip and pacing her living room area when Seneca walked into the surveillance room.

"She's been doing that for about half an hour sir, ever since an Avox delivered a note." The guard supplied when Seneca asked what was going on.

"Keep and eye on her and if she gets too wound up send the Peacekeeper in to calm her down and make sure she does nothing stupid." The game maker ordered before walking straight back out again.

0o0o0

There was a large buffet room constantly stocked for the Society members in their building. It just one floor above the laboratory they used earlier and one of the few floors off limits to Carrie. Most of the members were lounging around chatting and eating. Seneca joined the group and made idle chitchat like the rest of them before addressing the real issue for his visit.

"Jodette, you know most of the up-and-coming stylists out there; who would you suggest to fix Carrie ready for President Snow?"

The young women looked delighted, prattling off a list of names and gossip.

"Well there's Ginette who is a wonderful student and she should pass her training in the next few years but she has got a bit of a thing for the colour green. Uses it in _everything,_ poor dear needs reminding of current styles constantly. A fabulous older man called Brekk could really be something if he'd stop sleeping with the people he dresses. Oh and I can fully recommend Flora; an enchanting lady I go to myself. She's ever so popular and I hear she and Finnick are an item. A young man called Cinna will be doing his final project this year at the Games, he'll be assisting one of the current District stylists and so long as he passes their tests then he'll be fully fledged by winter. He shows promising talent but the chap is awfully _plain; _hardly any colour or embellishments in his clothes at all. Then we have…"

Seneca tried to listen politely but most of the babble went right past him. One of the names sounded familiar though.

"Cinna. Youngish man who likes eyeliner?"

"Yes that's him!" Jodette bobbed her head enthusiastically.

"I know him, we're old friends. I'll give him a call later on, he owes me a favour anyway."

After that the conversation devolved into the pros and cons of the latest fashions. Despite being born and bred Capitol, the nature of Seneca's job meant that he was less frivolous that others. He was good at time management and organising things, which is why he was unofficially in charge of sorting things out for Carrie. Reyson and Merrin were next in line but both had very busy jobs. Seneca's workload at the moment was largely distributed to others at this stage of the year so he only had to oversee and approve until the tributes were selected in a few weeks time.

0o0o0

Cinna was at his sewing machine when the call came. Disgruntled at having to stop part way through he answered the call curtly until he realised who it was. It was close to the end of his last year as trainee stylist and if he passed the tests at the Games then he could be stylist for his own tribute next year. He already knew he wanted to be in charge of District 12. He wanted to make them stand out, wanted to give them a fighting chance to get sponsors.

"Cinna? It's Seneca, I have some work for you if you're interested."

"What sort of work?"

"The sort you're best at. I have a 17 year old girl I need you to dress to meet the president tomorrow. Do you think you'll be able to do it in time?"

"Should be able to yes. Is it at your place?"

"No somewhere else. I'll send you the details on your phone. Gather up what you need to stay for the night. And we have no prep team so I'm afraid you'll need to do what you can yourself. We need you here straight away. See you soon."

Cinna stared at the phone. It was unusual for Seneca to be so brusque and hang up without a good-bye. Knowing it was likely serious to have his friend so uptight, he started gathering his supplies and packed a number of different dresses. When the address beeped through on his phone some light was shed on the situation. The Society building was well known in the Capitol and it's members liked to be as secretive as possible.

0o0o0

One short car ride later found Cinna standing in the lobby of the tower-like structure he was told to go to; It was almost as spectacular as he'd expected it to be. Scientific looking graphs and posters lined one long hallway further in and their motto: 'To Discover and Defend.' was engraved in black glass above the desk.

"Good to see you Cinna. Glad you could make it over here so quickly"

Cinna recognised Seneca walking towards him from around the corner.

"Good to see you too. Though I must say the call was a bit out of the blue. I haven't heard from you for weeks." Cinna replied smiling.

"Yes I've been rather wrapped up in a project here. Apologies for the hazy details but you'll understand soon enough. First and most important is - everything you learn and hear here is top secret and cannot be spoken about to anyone outside this building. If it weren't completely necessary you wouldn't even be here now. That's not just Society rules but the president himself has ordered it. As I said on the phone, we have a girl you need to prepare to meet with him tomorrow afternoon. I'm aware its short notice but we only found out earlier. I've seen your work though and I'm sure you're up to the task."

"I understand. I have a few outfits I've created recently for my training but it should be easy enough to alter one to her size. How much needs doing to her?"

"Everything" Seneca said with a frown. "She'll need working on from scratch; She isn't as awful as those from the districts but certainly nowhere near as spotless as someone from the Capitol."

"Where in Panem is she from then?" Cinna asked shocked.

"I'll explain on the way. Lets head up there and I'll fill you in. An Avox will bring your things up. You probably need to know that she can be terribly shy and likes her personal space; she doesn't like being closed in. Because she isn't from around here the whole purpose of this is to make her well presented for tomorrow; she _must _make a good impression. I'm hoping to convince the president to let her stay in the Capitol."

They continued to speak as they went up in the lift.

"She travelled through time from the past by accident. Hard to believe but trust me, we've done every experiment known and they all point to the same thing. She arrived here about three weeks ago and we've been interrogating her ever since. We've been lacing her food and drink with small amounts of Capitol drugs to try and get her body used to them because the first time she was injected we nearly lost her. She doesn't know about the lacing though so don't tell her."

"Sorry, stop a minute. You're telling me I'm to dress a time-traveller? I'm starting to think the rumours about this Society being crazy are true." Cinna laughed.

"Actually she refuses to go by the title time-traveller since she only did it once and doesn't know how."

"Oh jeez you're actually serious…" Cinna rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw.

"Yes I am. The president thinks she's a liability though and I want to convince him she's of more use alive than dead. So don't dress her in anything too modest; show off her assets, whatever you think they may be. Her name is Carrie Smith. Call her Carrie though; She gets uncomfortable with 'Miss Smith' when the others call her that. Here we are. Come on in."

Cinna took note of the room number and followed Seneca through the door. Inside a young looking girl greeted him timidly. If he hadn't been told her age he would have guessed her about two years younger. It was a lot to take in and just believe she was from the past. He mentally shook himself and pushed the absurd piece of information to the back of his mind.

"Hello Carrie, I'm Cinna. Have you been told why I'm here?" he asked in a pleasant voice. She nodded shyly and led them further into the room down to the living area.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink?" She asked softly. Both men declined and Seneca sat down, waiting for Cinna to start.

"Could you please stand here Carrie? I'd like to take a look at you before we get started."

Carrie found the stylists voice and manner even more calming than Seneca's and found him easy to obey. She did as he said and stood still as he walked around. It was unnervingly reminded her of when Jodette first visited. Cinna made her lift her arms out to the side, straighten her shoulders, and forced her head to be held high. Then he undid her hair from its ponytail to ruffle it out loose around her shoulders.

He pondered her form for the next few minutes, thinking about what could be done in time for the morning. He had a dress that should fit her well enough. She certainly wasn't as skinny as he was expecting.

"Take your top and leggings off." He instructed

"What?" she yelped, dropping the position he'd put her in to curl her arms around her torso defensively.

"I need to see your body properly to see what needs doing. Don't worry it'll be professional." Cinna replied. Carrie, wide eyed and shocked, glanced at Seneca sitting with his smirk.

"So when I told you she likes personal space and can be shy, _this_ is your approach?" He asked Cinna rhetorically, before sauntering into the kitchen to get a drink.

"As I said; I need to see what needs doing. Everyone who has a stylist does this." He assured Carrie. Slowly and uncomfortably she began peeling her clothes off to stand in front of the complete stranger in only her underwear.

"Perfect. Stand as you were. That's it, now head a little higher and arms out a bit straighter." He inspected her body again, running a finger along her ribs lightly, gently taking her hand and checking her fingers and nails, tilting her head back scrutinizing her profile. During this time Seneca walked back to his seat, drink in hand, and watched quietly while the trainee stylist did his work.

"I feel like a horse you're deciding whether or not to buy." She said when he'd been doing that for quarter of an hour. Cinna gave a small smile and released the strand of hair he was looking at. He led her to the sofa before seating himself in the armchair across from her and addressing Seneca.

"She's going to be washed and waxed tonight. I think a haircut is in order too to give it some body. In the morning I'll need to apply some false nails because she keeps biting them and do her makeup. I have a dress that should work with her figure, it might need altering slightly but it'll be done in time." Cinna explained, smiling at Carrie when she blushed and stopped chewing her nail immediately.

"Does anything need fetching for you or are you able to start straight away?" Seneca asked.

"As soon as the luggage arrives we'll start. Carrie can you go and start the shower. I'll be with you in a moment, we'll have to improvise a little since I assume we haven't got the facilities the Remake Centre has."

"You…er…you'll be showering with me?" She asked suspiciously.

"I assure you there will be nothing sexual about it. But you won't know or understand how I need you preparing."

"Is all this really necessary to meet the president?" Carrie turned to Seneca; her expression of petulant doubt would almost be amusing if the situation wasn't so serious.

"It is if you want to live Carrie. And don't think I'm being overly dramatic when I say that." He said seriously. The girl gulped audibly, fear showing on her pale features.

"I'll go wait in the shower then." She whispered quickly, hurrying from the room.

0o0o0

Carrie set the shower on and got the towels ready, wrapping one around herself. She knew it would soon be removed but it felt better than just sitting around mostly naked. She hoisted herself up onto the counter and waited, kicking her feet nervously.

The door to the room slid open and in walked Cinna.

"Carrie, I know you must be nervous but try and relax. I understand that this is all a bit strange for you but I promise not to hurt you. I'm going to have to come in the shower with you I'm afraid, but I will keep my underwear on. You will need to be naked though so that I can wash you properly. It's essential that every step gets done right. If you want me to stop something of slow down just say and I'll back off alright?"

Carrie nodded nervously then watched, mesmerized, as he stripped off his waistcoat, unbuttoned his shirt and trousers and let them all fall to the floor. The spell was broken though when he stepped towards her and pulled her to her feet, taking the towel away at the same time. She obediently took her underwear off and stepped into the shower, letting him follow and slide the door shut behind him. She scrunched her eyes up tight and stood stiffly as he started methodically washing her down. He started out as she normally would but spent a lot of time cleaning her nails and hair, being very specific about the products he wanted to use and the direction she needed scrubbing. He next moved onto using a hard brush to exfoliate her skin, being careful to keep his word and not hurt her. After that came a softer sponge with circular motions working his way down her body. He washed her hair with care and she felt herself relax

"Ok we're done with the washing. I'm now going to use some different body lotions on you." Cinna murmured softly so as not to spook the girl. Though still self-conscious, Carrie was more relaxed than when he had started. He had a calm and peaceful manner and hadn't tried anything inappropriate, keeping a professional almost clinical approach to his work. She let him massage the body lotions into her skin and felt herself relaxing further. It actually felt nice to be so pampered she realised.

Once finished, Cinna wrapped a towel around his waist and another around Carrie's body, leaving her hair damp ready for him to brush and trim.

"There now; that wasn't too bad was it?" he smiled easily. For him it was just a part of the job and nothing more. Since she was being prepared for the president everything had to be perfect. And for that to happen he had to be in complete control. "This next bit might be a bit uncomfortable for you if you've never been waxed before. Current fashion is for the entire body to be hairless which is what I've been ordered to follow. Mr Crane was very insistent about that."

0o0o0

Cinna was wrong about it being uncomfortable. It was properly painful on a whole new level that Carrie had never experienced before. One of the peacekeepers that stood guard on the other side of the door actually burst into the room to see what was wrong when she started screaming.

"What the hell are you two laughing at?" she snarled, painfully curled up on her bed. The two men where laughing on the other side of the room, each with a drink.

"I've never heard someone scream so loud as you before. Especially over a simple waxing." Seneca chuckled

"I'd love to see you get waxed then." Carrie spat back.

"I do. It is the current fashion for men and women." He smirked at her shocked expression.

"Even men? The whole body like I just had done?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Naturally." And to prove his point he lifted the hems of his trousers just enough to show off his smooth legs.

"That's so weird. I knew women who had it done but never men. Does that mean you're all walking around…bare?" She gingerly got up from the bed and padded over to her companions.

"It's the current fashion Carrie. Most men like to follow it, especially if they're well respected and well know." Cinna explained. "Mr Crane here, as head game maker, is very respected so he has to been seen doing the right things and talking to the right people. His one 'quirk' is being a member of this Society and it's seen as fascinating because it's such a select group. As a trainee stylist I'm not well known yet so it doesn't matter that I don't wax. I doubt I would anyway though because I believe I persons style should reflect who they are instead of what everyone else is doing."

"So I'm in agony because Captain Kinky over here wanted me bare" She concluded heatedly, jerking her thumb in Seneca's direction.

"Carrie I don't think you're fully understanding what is at stake. You are not meant to even be here. The fact that you have been allowed to stay for three weeks is because the president allowed it. Who knows what will happen to you if he decides you're not worth keeping around. If he wants you to strip naked and dance for him right in the middle of his garden, then you being 'fashionable' might just sway things in your favour." Seneca snapped forcefully. "Oh jeez don't cry girl…" he exclaimed upon seeing her eyes well up with tears. He shifted closer and patted her knee awkwardly. "I have a plan, and Cinna here is doing what he can so you may still have a chance."

"I'm sorry, please just don't be angry with me." She pleaded, keeping her eyes down and her shoulders bent.

"I'm not angry at you Carrie. It's just… a very stressful situation for us all." Seneca concluded lamely, squeezing her knee comfortingly.

0o0o0

The following morning Cinna walked down the corridor to Carrie's quarters to start getting her ready. He'd cut her hair the previous night but it would need another wash and some styling. He would be putting in additional care to her appearance with her life depending on it.

Preparations went smoothly. She ate only a light breakfast of fruit as instructed, and was allowed to shower alone. Though she was told which hair shampoo, hair conditioning oil, body lotion and perfume to use. The nails and makeup were the most time consuming but worth it. He went for a natural look on her, highlighting her eyes and smoothening her complexion. By the end she was singing his praises and declaring him a god-like creature.

Seneca arrived just as the dress was being laced up at the back. The slightly puffed arms hung off the shoulder, there was an under-bust corset was build into the dress much to Carrie's delight, and the flowing skirt ended just below her knees. It was the perfect cross between innocent and seductive. Psychologically, whichever the president was more interested in seeing was what he would pick up on the most. It was a clever technique and perfect for this occasion.

"You look breathtaking." Seneca said with a genuine smile. "And just in time too; good work Cinna. The car shall be arriving momentarily so we'd best go down Carrie." He offered his arm after she slipped into a pair of silver heels, and escorted her down to the lobby.

"This is where you go alone. Cinna and I shall be in your quarters when you return though. Remember to be polite, think about what we talked about last night, and above all - do not lie to him. Skirt the truth if you must and are able, but do not lie." He stressed. She was shaking like a leaf by this point, knowing her future was about to be decided. Seneca leant forward to give her a brief hug and kissed both her cheeks.

"Good luck." He whispered in her ear before handing her to the care of the driver waiting outside.

He couldn't quite say what was so interesting about the girl. The fact that she had travelled through time was certainly a novelty, and that she knew nothing of Panem meant she was not biased in any way. But somehow he was drawn to her in a most unsettling way; then again, Capitol citizens were notorious for falling in lust quickly. This was a harmless infatuation that was sure to disappear soon. He just didn't want her to die.

0o0o0

The car travelled smoothly and swiftly like everything else Carrie had experienced so far in her sheltered life in the Capitol. All too soon though the vehicle was gliding to a stop and the door was opened for her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the sunshine and gasped at the beauty of the garden before her. Roses of every colour adorned the place, attracting fantastic butterflies with patterns Carrie had never seen before. An Avox approached and silently motioned for Carrie to follow. They walked in silence through what appeared to be a hedge maze with even more roses growing along the neatly trimmed bushes. Gravel crunched under foot as Carrie struggled to keep her balance in the heels on the uneven surface.

They finally walked round a bend and in front of her Carrie saw an old grandfatherly-looking man in an immaculate smoking jacket sitting on a wooden bench. He spotted her and patted the seat beside him.

"Sit down my dear. I am President Coriolanus Snow. I believe you are Carrie Smith yes?"

Carrie gave a small curtsy and sat down delicately.

"Yes Mr President. Pleasure to meet you." she said demurely, folding her hands in her lap.

"I enjoy sitting out here caring for my roses. A few of them even trace back to your country I believe."

Carrie stayed politely silent as the man talked. She noticed the strong smell of blood and resisted gagging at the strong scent. President Snow plucked a rose from a nearby bush and began slowly and methodically trimming the leaves and thorns off as he continued speaking.

"They tell me you like plants yourself Miss Smith. They found a selection in your bag when you were rescued?"

"Yes sir. I was collecting them for my mother to put in the windowsill." she replied.

"You might be pleased to learn that we have been able to clone them. They are growing quite well I have been told and I plan to have a few in one of my greenhouses. I've been following the reports on you passionately Miss Smith, you seem like an interesting young lady. Do you think you have anything to offer to the Capitol if you were to stay?"

"I'm a hard and dedicated worker." She said hesitantly, unsure what sort of answer he was looking for. He shook his head and continued pruning the rose.

"No, no, that's what the Districts are for. Is there anything you can offer that no one else can?" he asked, becoming impatient. Carrie took a few moments to think of something, _anything_, that she could do that no one else could.

"The thing only I could offer would be adding variety to the genetic pool. In my time I had no relatives in America so unless some emigrated out here in later years then I'm in no way related to anyone in Panem." She knew it was a weak argument by the way Snow stayed silent, but there wasn't much else she could think of. She wracked her mind for something else. "I know a number of stories and songs that might not be around. If they were approved then I could bring them back. They were quite popular in my day." She added knowing it was even weaker than her last argument. This time she stayed quiet, looking at her lap in the uncomfortable silence.

"You may not be much of an conversationalist but you are pleasant company none-the-less." Snow said after several long minutes, his eyes raking her body. "Come, I'll walk you back to the car. If you'd be so kind as to lend me your arm; I seem to have forgotten my cane." He rose and grasped Carrie's offered arm. She concentrated hard on taking a steady pace and not wobbling in her heels on the gravel. President Snow spoke in his soft tone about each rose species as they passed them while Carrie listened with genuine interest. They finally exited the maze and stood by the side of the car.

"Thankyou sir, I've seen many rose gardens but none as beautiful and complete as this one. It is truly wonderful and I can see why you are so proud of it." Carrie said truthfully. President Snow smiled, grasped her shoulders and kissed her cheeks with his bloody-smelling breath, then tucked the rose he had been trimming into her hair.

"Have a good day Miss Smith. Pass my compliments to your stylist; he did a remarkable job."

0o0o0

After a relatively short journey back the car drew to a stop and the driver let Carrie out and escorted her to the lobby. She was glad to be back inside the building despite the fact she'd felt trapped in it for the last three weeks. She thanked the driver and made her way up in the elevator queasily. At last she stumbled into her quarters and, paying no attention to the men in her room, ran and threw up in the toilet.

"Take it the meeting didn't go well?" Cinna called through while Seneca groaned into his hands on the sofa.

"No, it didn't." Carrie replied shortly once she'd finished heaving. She stood in the doorway brushing her teeth roughly. "He asked what I had to offer and I said I could broaden the gene pool." She said with a frothy mouth. She disappeared to rinse her mouth out before returning. "I think I just tried prostituting myself out to the President." She whined. Seneca looked up sharply.

"Did he like the way you looked?" He asked. Carrie nodded glumly.

"Said to pass his compliments onto you Cinna because you did a remarkable job. That's about all he liked though since I'm not a good conversationalist. He said so too."

Seneca and Cinna shared a look. They both knew about how the president sold people to the highest bidder. Usually it was victors of the games but someone as unusual as Carrie could be a possibility.

"Did he give you that rose?" Cinna asked walking over to help her remove the heels she was struggling to take off with shaking fingers.

"Yes, just before I left. Oh god he's marked me to have me killed." She choked out a sob, pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes. Cinna pried them away gently.

"Careful of the eyelashes." He murmured. She sat and let him remove her makeup carefully while she shook with tears.

"Get this dress off please. It's too tight." She started to gasp, struggling to breath in the corset. Seneca's nimble fingers began unlacing the back and Carrie let it fall down to her waist when he was finished, bending double trying to catch her breath now she was crying properly and hyperventilating.

"You need to calm down Carrie and take deep breaths or you're going to pass out." Cinna whispered calmly while the girl curled up into a tight ball.

"It may not have been as bad as you think. He gave you a rose, I doubt he would have given you one if it went badly." Seneca murmured, at a loss as to what to do with the half-naked girl crying on his lap. He gingerly started to stroke her hair in an attempt to comfort her. Much to his surprise it started to work when her sobs lessened and her body slowly relaxed.

"Let's wait to see what his reaction is before getting too upset. Come on, go get into bed and I'll fetch you something to eat. You must be hungry." He said quietly. She stood and held the dress around her before walking to the bed. When she was sure both men had their backs turned she stripped down and put on a tunic from her wardrobe. Whoever organised it seemed to realise she was fond of them and kept it filled with them for her.

"Thank you for lending me the dress Cinna. It really is beautiful."

"Don't mention it Carrie. You can keep it if you like; it's an old piece that was just taking up space. I can never bear to simply throw them away when I'm finished with them." The stylist smiled and walked over to join her. He perched on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed underneath him.

"You're really kind. I'm glad you were chosen to dress me." She said letting out a big yawn as Seneca walked in with a bowl of pasta.

"Eat then you can sleep." He instructed firmly, placing the dish on her lap and making sure she finished the bowl before she succumbed to the stress-induced sleep.

"I know it's really not my place to say Seneca…but it's alright to have feelings for her." Cinna said carefully. Seneca snorted derisively.

It was still pretty early, hardly even evening, and yet Carrie was fast asleep in her bed while the two men were sitting quietly having a drink in the living area.

"Don't be so absurd Cinna, I have no more than a passing interest. The stress of your training has gotten to you I recon." Seneca retorted defensively

"Say what you want, but a man with no more than a 'passing interest' doesn't try everything he can to persuade our president to keep her alive. I get that she's one of a kind but the Seneca I know wouldn't risk everything just for some girl." His friend countered with a wry smile.

"Leave it Cinna. We'll know soon enough whether it matters or not anyway. She might not even be around this time next week." Seneca retorted, knocking back the rest of his drink.

0o0o0o0

A/N: Well done to BellaGirl7 for guessing Carrie's Stylist, and a huge thankyou to everyone who reviews, it's really encouraging.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N: ** Ok so I'm not exactly sure how a president should be addressed, it's not something I was ever taught funnily enough. Looked about online but people are saying different things so sorry if it's wrong.

0o0o0o0

Two days had passed and with no word yet from the president Carrie was getting more and more anxious; She hardly ate or slept, and gave little thought to what was going on around her. The Society members had given up most of their planned meetings with her since she was now so unresponsive. The only reason she got dressed in the morning was because Cinna was still around to order her to. Finally, in a bid to find out how aware she was to what was being said, he broached the subject of Seneca one evening after the man had left.

"So what do you think of our head game maker?"

Silence.

"Looks like you've caught his interest…"

Silence.

"I don't think I've seen him so smitten with someone before." He snuck a glance at Carrie and noticed her raising her head to look at him inquisitively

"Excuse me?"

"I said you've rather caught my friend's interest, and that I haven't seen him so smitten with anyone before." Cinna repeated with a small smile.

"Of course he's interested in me, I travelled through time. That's why I'm being held here. " She said, frowning in confusion at the implications in his tone of voice.

"A little more than just that I think. I do believe he's attracted to you."

Again Carrie furrowed her brow.

"That's impossible, he's only known me for a little over three weeks. And besides, why would he find me attractive?" she asked baffled, looking up at Cinna who was rolling his eyes.

"Because what man can resist being in close contact to a beautiful girl for nearly a month without becoming attracted to her?" He laughed lightly.

"It's still ridiculous. And don't call me beautiful." She snapped. Going back to looking out the window from the sofa.

"Well, us Capitol folk are renowned for being ridiculous." He smiled, letting the subject drop.

0o0o0

Later that night Carrie and Cinna were sitting in the kitchen eating dinner. He'd tried convincing her to be daring and eat something truly 'Capitol' that she'd never eaten back in her time. It had gone well until he told her what it was - Calf testicles roasted in a garlic sauce. Whereupon she turned a nasty shade of green and ordered a strong alcohol to wash the taste out as Cinna laughed heartily from his side of the table.

It was at that moment when Carrie was glaring at her new companion that Seneca strode in, picked her up, and spun her in a full circle.

"We did it." He said excitedly. "Your arrival is to be published in all the newspapers and the President himself is hosting a dinner party three nights from now in your honour to welcome you to Panem." He set her down and took in her beaming face lit up with joy.

"I'm going to live? I'm actually allowed to stay?" She asked eagerly. He nodded and grabbed her close again as Cinna poured the three of them a drink.

"So what were you two up to before I graced you with my presence and news?" Seneca grinned.

"Nothing much. Your friend was just trying to poison me." Carrie laughed; no longer caring about what she had been tricked into eating.

"It's a delicacy you uncouth barbarian." Cinna smiled, popping another bite into his mouth and swallowed. "Now then, we'd better get started on your dress. Go shower and meet me in the main room to take some measurements. Chop-chop."

Seneca gave her a little nudge out the room and watched her practically skip to the bathroom.

"Alright on a more serious note we might have a problem." He turned solemnly to Cinna once the girl was out of hearing range. "I know a lot of the people being invited to this thing and most of them are the ones who buy time with victors. I think the President is using it to advertise her. She might well be more popular that any of the Victors purely on the novelty of where she came from." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. "I can't believe I didn't see this coming. I was hoping she might not have to." He admitted.

"Is it definite yet?" Cinna asked.

"No, it's not confirmed. But the dress is going to have to be more revealing than I'm sure she'd like it to be." He admitted with a grimace. "I don't want to tell her about the possibility of what she may have to do until we know for sure." He added, running a hand through his usually immaculate hair. "Do you have any ideas for the dress?"

"A few. I've been sketching the last couple of days. A passionate red would suit her and I'll put her hair up this time; she has an attractive slender neck that should be shown off" Cinna answered carefully. "I'll need to get some more fabric in and get sewing early tomorrow if it's to be done in time. She'll need teaching some formal table manners and dance steps as well." He murmured more in thought to himself than anything. Seneca nodded along, and ran another hand through his hair.

"Still…she gets to stay." He broke out into a grin again, thrilled at the prospect of having her around to stay.

0o0o0

The night of the dinner party arrived quicker than Carrie has expected. Seneca and Cinna had been training her none-stop to improve her posture and manners, teach her how to eat at a formal Capitol party, teach her (failingly) how to dance, and managed to drill into her the importance of not speaking her mind if it was at odds with what the Capitol believed. Cinna had showered and prepared her again in the morning but let her try to dress herself, though as soon as he saw her try to put it on the wrong way round he had to step in.

"The lacing goes down the front darling." He corrected.

"But the split goes all the way down to my stomach. In fact you'd actually _see_ my belly button." She gasped in shock.

"That's the idea. Don't worry, I designed it specifically for you and you will look as stunning in this creation as you did the other." He assured her, twirling her around and swiftly unhooking the bra she's put on moments ago. "You won't need that with the dress." He explained, now forcing her to step into the red material and shimmy it over her hips. "Take the knickers off too, you don't want the panty line showing." He instructed.

"Don't get me wrong Cinna… this dress is gorgeous and you make works of art but you can't expect me to go into a room full of strangers with no underwear whatsoever!" she exclaimed. "The split in the side comes practically to my hip!" She added tugging the side down, only to realise it caused her breasts to become more revealed.

"Less is sometimes more." He said calmly, sitting her down and starting to weave her hair into an 'up do' and placing small diamonds into the stands as he went.

"You know in my time that meant show less skin." She grumbled but sat still enough for him to continue, oblivious to Seneca staring at her hungrily. Cinna continued his work for another hour before he was happy with the result.

"Right, all done now." Cinna declared, twirling Carrie round for Seneca's approval. He'd done her hair and makeup and, looking in the mirror, she almost didn't recognise herself.

"Wow you truly are a genius Cinna. You'll pass your test with flying colours for sure." Carrie praised breathlessly.

"I try my hardest. It helps to have a beautiful model too." Cinna smiled modestly, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "You ready for this tonight? Remember everything we've taught you?"

"I told you not to call me that." She frowned. " And I don't really have a choice do I." She admitted wryly. "But if it means I'm allowed to live I can get through anything." She said with conviction.

Seneca appeared from the bathroom where he'd been changing in his trademark red striped suit, which complemented Carrie's dress well Cinna mused when he saw them stand together.

"Thankyou Cinna. Can you be here when we return? I'll have someone call you to let you know when we're on our way." Seneca addressed the stylist.

"It's part of the job." The other man said smiling. He gave Carrie another peck on the cheek with a few words of encouragement before the couple made their way down to the lobby to meet their driver for the evening.

"Are there going to be many people there?" The young girl asked with a hint of trepidation.

"The entire Society and a few other high-up members of the Capitol. There will probably be around 200 in all." Carrie stopping in her tracks

"…2…200? That's not a 'few' others. The number of people I'll know there doesn't even come up to a quarter of that number." Carrie exclaimed, stopping suddenly and frozen in place. Seneca had to steer her rather forcefully into the car and shut the door before getting in the other side himself. He grasped her hand comfortingly.

"Just remember this is in celebration of you being allowed to stay here, a celebration which means you're allowed to live." He said once the car was moving. They travelled the rest of the way in silence and it wasn't until they were pulling up that Carrie made a noise. It came out as a bit of a whimper when she saw the number of people standing outside the mansion.

"They're reporters. Smile and wave but don't say anything to them, you're not answering their questions yet. I'll be just in front of you and the peacekeepers will keep the crowd at bay." Seneca murmured quietly, just before his door was opened and he let his face fall blank and walked sedately up the steps to the presidential mansion. Carrie forced a smile on her face and relaxed her features so she wouldn't look so much like a rabbit caught in headlights, and stepped carefully out the car being sure not to expose herself. Lights flashed from all directions and the volume of the questions being shouted was almost deafening but the terrified girl managed to keep the act up and waved to the crowd as she followed Seneca's footsteps. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she was in the sanctuary of the building, being led further in by an avox and flanked by two peacekeepers. She was pleasantly surprised to find it was the same two who usually guarded her door and one gave her a small wink when he caught her recognition before schooling his features again.

"Ah my dear Miss Smith. What a pleasure to have you here looking ravishing once more." President Snow greeted passionately, letting his eyes tour her body and take in the dress. "Same Stylist I presume?"

"It's a pleasure to be here Mr President. Yes this is another of Cinna's creations, he designed it specifically for tonight." Carrie said graciously, hiding her startled reaction when the president pressed his lips to her hand in such an intimate gesture. The older man placed the hand on his arm and led her into the mass of bodies in the room. One by one they started to clap until the noise was thunderous.

"I am pleased to introduce Miss Carrie Jane Smith, blessing us with her presence having travelled from the year 2012. If you would go through to the next room, dinner shall be served." Snow announced to the whole room in a surprisingly strong voice that carried well. Carrie allowed him to lead her into the huge dining room and be sat in front of a name-card just right of the centre of one side of a long table at the top of the room. To accommodate such a large party of people there were several long tables placed in a U-shape. The President himself sat beside Carrie in the centre of the long table and when she looked around discreetly she could see Seneca sitting a little further down from her, but far enough away that she wouldn't be able to make conversation with him. She was distinctly out of her comfort zone.

The courses seemed never-ending and Carrie was thankful she had been warned beforehand. There were no glasses of the bubbly liquid she had been told of which would aid emptying of the stomach for which she was grateful, so she just nibbled at eat course, being sure to try each of everything so as not to seem rude. Some of the food was difficult to swallow due to their horrendous tastes. It didn't help that the president made sure to tell her all the different foods; describing the kidney dishes while she tried swallowing them without chewing or tasting, foul tasting fish which she tried not to smell, Shrimps with their eyes still in place that seemed to judge her as she copied the others as to how to eat the cooked creatures. It was as though this were some horrible test that she had to pass, and in Snow's eyes she was passing with flying colours. Granted he was able to detect a slight crinkling of the nose as she swallowed something she didn't like but he was pleased to see she did nonetheless. And the others did not seem to be able to detect her distaste. So long as she fitted in with the Capitol and knew her place, things should run smoothly. By watching the security tapes sent to him, he was already aware of her growing fondness for Crane, feeling which seemed to be reciprocated. Until a stronger bond was formed it would do as leverage for her cooperation if she put a foot out of line.

"So tell me my dear; what interests you most about Panem?" He enquired

"I would have to say the Hunger Games arenas. I'm incredibly fascinated by how they are created and controlled. I've never known anything like it and enjoy watching previous years games to see what is used and how they are organised." Carrie admitted. Snow smiled, satisfied with her answer.

"Perhaps I could organise a little tour for you with Mr Crane one day." He offered, taking a sip of a pleasant blueberry flavoured alcohol and watching Carrie's eyes light up with delight.

"That would be wonderful sir." She said animatedly, delighted at the prospect.

0o0o0

By the end of the vast meal Carrie was struggling to eat another bite and was relieved when it was announced they could retire to another room where a string quartet would be entertaining them all. Seneca managed to find Carrie's side and touch her lightly on her shoulder to gain her attention as the group filed out the room

"You're doing well. There will be dancing soon; don't worry, most here are skilled at it so they will lead in the steps. Don't turn anyone down, answer their questions to the best of your ability, and do as your told." He flashed her a small smile before walking in another direction to strike up conversation with another woman. Carrie felt something hot pooling in her stomach and recognised herself becoming jealous that Seneca would be spending the evening in the company of other women. '_How odd.' _She though to herself, wondering why she felt jealous. She didn't have time to further dwell on it though because another handsome man stepped up and greeted her, striking up conversation.

The rest of the evening went well. It was largely men who sought out her company but a few women did come a greet her; complimenting her dress, asking more questions, asking who her stylist was, how she was finding being in the Capitol. Every single person who spoke to her commented on her strange accent and by the end of it she was feeling mildly insulted considering most of the women talked like chipmunks in her opinion, and a few dressed like them too. The men were only slightly better at bringing up the way she spoke but she suspected she was biased because they were openly complimenting her and offered to get her drinks and danced so well that she felt like she was simply flying when partnered with them. By the time the chiming of midnight was heard Carrie was feeling very much at ease and faintly dizzy. Seneca found her sitting giggling in a corner surrounded by a group of 6 men, all smirking lecherously as she tittered at their jokes laced with innuendo.

"Hello gentlemen, I'm pleased to see you getting to know young Carrie here. I must apologise though since it's time we were going." He said smoothly. A middle aged balding man placed his fat hand on Carrie's thigh

"It was lovely to meet you Miss Smith, I very much look forward to enjoying your company again." He slurred with his alcohol-loosened tongue. She giggled and placed her hand over his.

"It was a wonderful night. You simply must tell me more about these books you're writing when we next meet." She smiled winningly, before standing and smoothing her dress down and taking Seneca's offered hand and thanking her entertainers. She giggled when she swayed slightly and Seneca was forced to wind his arm around her waist to help her walk straight.

"How much have you had to drink?" he asked, vaguely annoyed at her obviously intoxicated state.

"Oh I lost count after the 6th. The gentlemen kept offering me more and I kept losing the glasses when I had to put them down to dance. I danced with everyone who asked, just like you said." She told him quietly.

"Try and straighten up a bit. You need to thank the president for this party and say goodnight. Try not to giggle to much." He hissed. He was surprised when she managed to straighten up somewhat and hold herself properly as they neared Snow and even more amazed when she spoke without hint of a slur or waver.

"Mr president, Thankyou ever so much for such an enjoyable evening. I am even more enamoured with your beautiful city and it's people than I thought possible."

"It was my pleasure dear. I take it you are retiring for the night?"

"Yes sir, it is late and I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome. I know you are an important man and must have a busy day tomorrow with the upcoming Games."

"Indeed. Well everyone here loves you, as I knew they would. I shall contact you soon. Goodnight Miss Smith." Snow leant in to kiss Carrie's hand again and she dipped in a half curtsy before Snow turned his back on her leaving her and Seneca to make their exit.

0o0o0

As soon as they were outside in the cold air Carrie was once again affected by the alcohol and became very drowsy during the car ride home. He had to practically carry her up to her room, thankful that she didn't get ill during the ride up to her floor. Cinna was waiting in her room when the peacekeepers let the pair stumbled through.

"She's blind drunk." Seneca said through gritted teeth. "Every bloody man there seemed to force a drink down her throat. Every time I looked over she was talking with someone else and they all loved your dress Cinna." He dumped the once-again-giggling girl unceremoniously on her bed and began taking her shoes off.

"I take it it was a success then?" Cinna asked calmly, noting Seneca's sobriety. The man stopped what he was doing and pushed some straying hairs away from his face wearily.

"Very much so. The president couldn't keep his eyes off her and a fair few men couldn't keep their hands off as she danced. I think it's a pretty sealed fate since she was so popular. The question is when she'll have to start." He thumped the bedside table. "Damnit. The thing that saves her life could be her undoing. You see what it does to some of those victors. What if she becomes a morphling addict?"

Cinna took over trying to undress the girl, his fingers making quick work of the lacing down her front and gently batting her hands away when she tried to help.

"So long as she has you to help her and stay a firm friend I'm sure she'll be fine." He said, though how certain he felt about that was debatable.

"You'll be with her every step of the way too. The president is passing you on your tests later this week so that you can be fully fledged to become Carrie's official stylist. It was a given that you'd pass anyway so this has just sped things along a bit." Seneca said, smiling in genuine happiness for his friend.

"Wow, that's generous." Cinna said shocked by the sudden news. It would be good not to have to go through the tediousness of being an assistant in the Games. They were notoriously taken advantage of.

"Mmm he is a generous man." Carrie struggled to sit up, not fully grasping what the men were talking about.

"Do you even know what we're talking about?" Cinna asked, amused by her vacant smile. She shook her head a few times in answer, and just carried on shaking her head between bouts of laughter "Have you ever drunk alcohol before Carrie?" Cinna asked, laughing at her antics while Seneca watched broodily.

"Oh yes, I was allowed a few sips of my parents' drinks sometimes when I was younger. And then I was allowed to start having a small glass of my own. People sometimes gave me drinks when I went out for the weekend as I got older but it generally tasted nasty. It's how I learned to not let it affect me unless I want it too. Except if I have too much of course." She explained earnestly, shoving the dress down the rest of the way and stepping out of the silky material. She say back on the bed cross-legged, either ignoring or ignorant of the fact she was stark naked in front of the men.

"Lets cover you up a bit." Cinna ordered lightly, retrieving one of her tunics and moving to tug it over her head. The move failed however when she laughed and rolled to the other side of the bed and darted to the other side of the room.

"Nope" she grinned mischievously.

"Carrie come here at once and bloody well put something on. You've had too much to drink and need to sleep it off." Seneca snapped angrily, walking over to her. The drunken girl simply bounced to the other side of the sofa when he was beside the window so he couldn't catch her.

"Why? You didn't seem to mind the half-naked women at the party." She said defiantly. She failed to notice Cinna stepping up behind her until he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her onto the bed, yanking the top over her head and lifting his eyebrow, silently daring her to remove the top.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Seneca demanded, baffled by her sudden change of tone. She crossed her arms crossly and answered while Cinna set about taking her hair down from its intricate design.

"I was completely alone in a room full of people I didn't know while you flirted with every bit of skirt that pranced past. You spoke to me once, and that was just to say 'dance with the men and do as they say'. Now you look all mad because I'm drunk. That is very inconsiderate of you." She said angrily, glaring at him. The menacing effect was lost when she started to cry however and slumped back against Cinna, startling him since he was just taking out the last pinned up curl.

"Are you just upset because you were jealous of Seneca being next to other women." He asked gently, stroking her hair. She nodded and let out a small hiccup, nestling her head into his arms so she wouldn't have to look at either of them. Despite the wretched display Seneca couldn't help but smile just slightly. He sat down beside her and began soothing motions on her back.

"There's no need to be jealous Carrie. I wasn't flirting with them…heck I wasn't even attracted to them. I had to let you socialize without me otherwise it would have looked odd, and you did very well; I'm pleased with how well you spoke to people. I was telling those people more about you and arranging some meetings. Some of those people are willing to sponsor you and you will get a cut of that money, meaning you'll be able to have an apartment of your own and a small income until you find yourself a job, so long as you meet with them occasionally and make public appearances." He explained. Carrie peaked out from the crook of Cinna's arm to look hopefully at the object of her infatuation.

"You promise you weren't attracted to them?" she asked tearfully. He smiled and nodded.

"I promise. Now come on, get into bed and get some sleep, you must be exhausted." As if to prove his point correct, Carrie let out a big yawn and crawled away from Cinna to shuffle clumsily under the sheets.

"Will you sleep next to me tonight?" she whispered pleadingly. "I promise I'll behave." She added. Seneca chuckled under his breath.

"I love that you think you're the only one in danger of misbehaving." He said under her breath, shaking his head and smiling wryly. "I'll stay next to you till you fall asleep. Then I'll sleep on the sofa. It's too late to be worth going home anyway." He conceded. She pouted slightly but nodded in agreement. "Will you stay too Cinna?" she asked, turning to the other man who was already grinning and backing away.

"I have my own room a few doors down. The most I'll do is stay till you're asleep." He said, leaving no room for argument. Seneca threw him a grateful look before lying down on top of the covers next to Carrie.

"Get some sleep sweetheart." He said softly, brushing some hair out her face and running his fingers lightly over her cheeks, lulling her to sleep. She let out another huge yawn, curling towards the heat of his body and already feeling herself slipping into sleep.

"Y'know…as far as being held captive is…this isn't too bad" she murmured before drifting into unconsciousness. When he was sure she was asleep Cinna laughed lowly and quietly turned to Seneca.

"Looks like she's a friendly drunk." He commented

"Emotional you mean. Worst part is her moods swing like this when she's sober too. Drink has just made her voice those mood swings." He replied tiredly. "Thanks for your help in this. It would have been near impossible without you. Go get some sleep, we can all have a lie in tomorrow since she hasn't got anything scheduled as far as I know."

Cinna left the two people sleeping on Carrie's bed; Seneca was asleep before he even had a chance to get up and go to the sofa.

0o0o0o0


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

0o0o0o0

Seneca woke in the morning to the smells of bacon and scrambled egg on toast wafting from the kitchen. He blearily looked around until he remembered he'd stayed over with Carrie the previous night and said girl walked in shyly and placed the plate on his lap before sitting quietly next to him with her head down. He looked at her sideways.

"What's brought this on?" he asked curiously.

"An apology for my behaviour last night…sorry." She said. Looking up at him bashfully, her cheeks a soft pink with embarrassment. Seneca chuckled in response and shook his head amusedly

"All is forgiven, especially for eggs and bacon." He smiled easily tucking into the breakfast she's brought in to him, missing her beaming grin as she walked bouncily to the bathroom for her morning shower.

0o0o0

"What I want to know is how you're not hung over." Cinna mused. The trio sat drinking coffee, or in Carrie's case – hot chocolate, in the living area. She shrugged, unconcerned.

"Just lucky. I've never had a hangover before so it's not unusual. What happens now anyway? Am I still going to be used as a test-monkey?" she asked lightly. Cinna quirked his lips into a smile and gazed at her levelly as he often did with people.

"Not by us." Seneca answered. "But a lot of people are going to want to meet you and find out more about you and were you came from. Some people will sponsor you for the fame of being involved and you will get a cut of that money as an allowance but the bulk of it you'll likely never see. It'll go towards your living expenses, upkeep, and a portion of it will go to the president and this society. Honestly though, I have no concrete information. The president will most probably contact us with information soon. Until then enjoy your free time and make the most of it. You'll be pleased to know you're allowed to visit the Game Control Centre with me in a few days time"

"Oh yay! I wasn't sure if he meant it."

"Who meant what?"

"Over dinner last night the president said he might arrange a visit to the Game Centre for me." Carrie answered happily taking another sip of cocoa.

0o0o0

"You look very pretty today Miss." It was her favourite peacekeeper; the one that had first shown her round and convinced her she wasn't going to be hurt by them.

"Thankyou." She grinned, dipping in a small curtsy. "I'm going to meet Seneca downstairs. I'm allowed out on a little trip and wanted to make an effort with my appearance. Is it 'Capitol' enough?" she asked, running a hand down her outfit. It was more daring than she would have chosen when she first arrived in Panem and she still thought she looked like a parrot with all the different colours but Cinna had assured her that was current fashion.

"You'll fit in perfectly Miss." The peacekeeper replied dutifully with a twinkle in his eye. "Have a pelasant day with Mr Crane"

Carrie walked easily down the hall in her flat shoes and waited patiently for the elevator shuttle to land on her floor. It was still vastly unpleasant to ride but she was slowly becoming accustomed to it. The anti-sickness pills Professor Merrin had brought for her helped greatly as well, he'd had them specially tailored to her needs and delivered them the night after the party.

"Looking very colourful today my dear. Are you looking forward to this?" Seneca was waiting for her in the lobby and offered his arm when she reached him.

"Very much so. Are we going by car?" she said eagerly, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet even as they stood still.

"Not today. Today I thought you might like to try something a little different and a little faster." He answered cryptically, leading her out the doors and onto the street where a faintly capsule-shaped large object sat by the pavement.

"What on earth is that?" Carrie asked curiously, running her hand lightly over it. There was an evident dip that appeared to be intended as a seat, and a curved screen that rose up from the front. "Is it a sort of motorbike?"

"Not as crude as one of those things in your time. This here is a brand new top of the line HR290. It's a HoverRide. You can sit behind me. It's completely safe and the fastest form of transport in the city, not many people have them." He smirked at Carrie's awed expression while she ran her fingers over the machine. "Here, put this band around your head" He instructed, retrieving two silver coloured bands of metal from under the seat which helpfully lifted up to reveal a storage compartment. Carrie did as she was told and watched Seneca mount the HoverRide and switch it on with a series of taps. She put the strange band around her head and tentatively got on behind the older man. It was low to the ground until he flicked something to the side and it rose from the ground, leaving several feet between their feet and the road. "The bands are another kind of force field. If we crash, which I assure you we won't, then they'll be activated so nothing will happen to that pretty little head of yours." He grinned.

"This is amazing, I never though I would ride anything like this." She gasped breathlessly, feeling the vehicle hum faintly underneath her while they hovered motionless. It was strange not having any sort of foot hold and she had to shift about until she found a comfortable position where she was sure she wouldn't tumble off. It was much like trying to ride a horse bareback she mused. In fact, much like riding a horse, the HR290 had straps to control it instead of stiff handles.

"Ready? I'll start of slow, just hold onto me and try not to fall off." He instructed with a smile. He started up and they gained speed until their surroundings looked like little more that blurry shapes on the side. It was invigorating and terrifying and freeing all at once. She gripped Seneca tighter each time he took a corner and she was amazed that she hadn't fallen off by the time they finally reached their destination. Seneca brought the bike to a stop until they were hovering still, and slowly brought the bike lower so Carrie could dismount. When she did her legs felt like jelly and she wasn't entirely certain she would be able to stay standing upright for long. She watched as Seneca brought the bike right down to the floor and switched it off, dismounting and putting both their head protectors back in their place under the seat.

"Carrie I need you to understand that most of what goes on in here is secret to the rest of Panem and we like to keep them closely guarded. I'll tell you what I can but some things you're not authorized to know, like this years arena for instance." Seneca guided her into the building, using his hand gently on the base of her back. They were met by peacekeepers and Seneca had to sign paperwork allowing Carrie entrance into control rooms with him.

Once the necessary forms were done she was handed a visitors badge and the pair continued further into the centre. Carrie began shooting questions at her companion whilst peering around curiously.

"When was this place built?"

"Just after the uprising of the districts. A few older buildings are combined into it but the main room was built specially. In the beginning it was much simpler, over the years as our technology has improved so have the arenas and the games' popularity. The corridor we're about to go down has been nicknamed 'Inspiration Avenue', it can be a bit gruesome if you're not used to it so try not to be sick." He joked. Carrie instantly understood what he meant; rows and rows of screens were mounted on both walls playing looped scenes from pervious years games. "These are the ones that got the most ratings: the peoples favourites." He explained quietly, watching Carrie carefully for her reaction.

"I er…I really don't know what to say to this." She whispered hoarsely, fixated on one screen that showed one boy smashing another boys skull in with a brick."

"Come on, let me show you the main room I think you'll really like it." He tugged her away and though colour returned to her face she was pretty sure the disturbing images she had just seen would be imprinted on her memory for a long time to come.

"How does your job work? I know you don't come here every day because you've sometimes spent all day with me, do you always have so much free time?"

"Not always. This is the quiet period of the year. The busiest is during the games to control what is going on and for a few weeks or months afterwards designing new arenas. Once the bulk of it is sorted out I can trust more to the people below me. Occasionally I'll give a personal tour for people who holiday in previous years' arenas, people who are more important in the Capitol." Seneca explained. He led the way down the steps onto the platform overlooking the rest of the room they'd just arrived at. Carrie saw a few people working on something around a round table, more impressive though was the interactive properties to the image hovering over top.

"Wow, that's to cool!" she gasped. "What are they working on?"

"This is an arena being planned for use in a few years time. We always have a few options lined up so we can take our pick for what we think the population will find more entertaining in a particular year. For example if we have a lot of rainfall in a year we might choose a very dry and hot arena. Or if Capitol citizens are following a particular trend such as a certain kind of animal, we'll use that animal in the games. Or we can set trends by using something. A few years back my predecessor set a fashion for flesh eating fish as pets. People used them to nibble dead flesh off the body to leave it silky and smooth, of course it was a gentler version of the breed in the games. "

"We had something like that back home. Women paid a lot of money to have fish nibble at their feet to leave them soft and smooth, I saw a few tanks of the tiny creatures once but never had it done myself." Carrie said with her eyes still fixed on the table and workers surrounding it.

0o0o0

The rest of the day was spent looking around the facilities and explaining how various things worked until it was long past time for an evening meal and the pair decided to head back to Carrie's room in the Society's building.

"Can I have some paper, pencils, and a rubber sent up to my room please?" Carrie asked an Avox politely as the passed in the hallway. Seneca gave a choked cough and looked at her with wide eyes

"Why do you want that?" He asked hoarsely

"So I can do some drawing." Came the innocent reply, not understanding the sudden look of relief that passed the older man's face.

"I believe she would like an _eraser_." He corrected to the mute avox.

"What's the matter Seneca?" Carrie asked, resting a hand lightly on his arm.

"A 'rubber' means something different here. It's ah…its something to stop a young lady getting pregnant." He explained blushing faintly red and swiftly walking down to her room, followed by the equally red-faced you Carrie.

"Oh…sorry." She murmured when they entered her quarters. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" she asked unable to look him in the eye.

"Yes please, we could share a pizza if you like? I do also have some paperwork that needs doing though, do you mind if I do some here after dinner?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. And not at all, it's nice to have the company. Cinna said he has some work to do so he won't be around for a few days."

0o0o0

The evening passed quietly and uneventfully. Whilst Seneca did his work Carrie doodled pictures on the paper the Avox had brought up for her along with the other supplies. She had been inspired by her time at the Game Centre to design her own arenas for fun. It was a pointless activity but she hadn't much else to do. One of the pieces of paper held designs for different traps and pits. The Capitol had the technology to cater to most, if not all, of her ideas. If they created a false floor with some sort of animal underneath then they could remove the floor when one or more tributes stood in the right area. Or they could leave it as a completely empty pit that covered a large enough area to trap two tributes but small enough that they couldn't hide from each other. It would be a small version of a gladiator arena that would result in a fight to the death. It would certainly stop one from running away if things in the games were getting too quiet.

One arena Carrie designed to be an Egyptian pyramid where the tributes would be forced to move through. The Cornucopia would be at the very centre and there would be a large number of chambers for the tributes to explore. Some could be booby-trapped and some could be safe-dens. Carrie smiled slightly to herself when she remembered the amount of mummy and zombie movies her brother had forced her to watch. Taking an idea from that she doodled a few different humanoid shapes at the side of the page; some representing mummies and others were zombies at different stages of decay. She spent a great deal of time lazily drawing artefacts she could remember seeing in the Egyptian history section on the book from school.

In another arena Carrie drew it to better represent a jungle with a Mayan temple at the heart of it. The inside could be a safe-den that was easily defended but to get there and secure it the tributes would have to kill a load of human mutts. They would only be false creations of course, made to frighten and deter. But she thought back to the dog-mutt she had seen earlier that day and realised that although it could be placed anywhere in the arena with a push of the button, it was in actual fact a very physical creature able to be touched and felt…able to do a lot of physical damage if told too as well.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Seneca's voice broke through her reverie and made her snap her head up to smile at him.

"Not much. Just thinking back to those dog-mutts we saw earlier today. I know they were engineered but are they able to live much beyond the games?"

"Oh yes, once created they will live as long as a normal dog would. The only difference is we are able to transfer them to the games. They have a chip in them that can sort of dissolve their physical form to move through solid objects if we at the game makers make them."

"So theoretically would you be able to make human mutts without conscious thought?"

"Yes I suppose we could. As you saw today we have a wide range of animals so if it was called for we could make human mutts. It would be a little more difficult to take away thought and emotions but it could be done. Why do you ask?"

"Oh just curious. I wonder if there's anything the Capitol can't do." She joked. "I'm going to go take a shower. See you in a bit."

Once Carrie had disappeared into the bathroom and the water could be heard, Seneca got up and walked over to where Carrie had been laying spread out on the floor. Her papers were bunched up neatly in a pile but the top one displayed what she had evidently been working on. He gave a thoughtful frown and took the designs back to his seat, leafing through them and reading all her notes. The drawings were certainly no pieces of art but it was clear enough to understand. What she lacked in drawing ability she made up for in her elegant handwriting and clear annotations. Some of them were actually unique and hadn't been done before. He spent a lot of time pouring over the Egyptian designs; _that_ hadn't been done before. And the Mayan design explained her question about human Mutts. He smiled when he saw all the different tattoos and clothes she had doodled for the human-mutts. It was sweet how pure she seemed sometimes. She knew the games were about Tributes dieing but she hadn't gone into those details. The most gruesome for her was the gladiator pit. Something similar had been done many years before but it had been a while so that could make a popular comeback he mused. Carrie's innocence showed when she wanted to human-mutts to be like empty shells. Evidently she didn't relish the idea of creating people to kill off or to become murderers. A few human-mutt experiments had been done in secret but their life span was frighteningly short. The most recent one had lasted a grand total of two days and the creature had showed signs of being in agony for the entire duration. '_But take away their ability to feel pain or discomfort and remove all conscious thought and it should be fine…' _

The bathroom door slid open and Carrie stepped out wrapped in a towel. She had become used to being less-than-dressed in front of Seneca and Cinna so it no longer bothered any of them if she only wore a towel of her underwear.

"These are very good Carrie, did you just come up with these?"

The girl blushed bright red but carried on walking over to sit beside him. "Pretty much. A few have been in my nightmares, but mostly I was just bored and wanted to do something for fun. I think the jungle one shows a better representation for what the Games stand for. I don't know if you have temples like that in the wild here in Panem but if the Districts did rise up or people tried to escape then they wouldn't just have 23 other people to run away from, they could have entire clans to hide from, clans who might be hidden from existence until they stumble into the territory. I understand the reason behind having 24 tributes and that it's punishment for them, but really if civilization fell then they wouldn't just have to worry about a wild animals and survival, they would have to worry about other many many other people killing off competition."

"I see where you're coming from but the Games has evolved from that basic reason for existence, it is something that knits us all together now and unites the people. How did you come up with the pyramid design?"

"I remembered all the Egyptian films my brother made me watch. The traps in the pyramids were really rather clever and I like the designs and patterns those people had back then. The mummies and zombies could be used from the design of the human-mutts again. It can be really freaky having someone just shuffle to chase you! I used to be part of a sort of freestyle acting group. It was called role-play and we'd hire a place for the weekend and there would be a plot to follow and creatures to overcome. Each person on the playing team would create a character and stay as that persona. On the 'crew' team they'd dress up as other people or as monsters. Some of the scariest creatures I remember 'fighting' against were the zombies. If you have a large group of them then they can gang up on you and you can find yourself cornered before you know it. Of course that was all for fun and nobody actually died of got hurt."

"You never told us about that."

"I'd forgotten. I hadn't done it for a while and it didn't seem that relevant." Carrie shrugged.

"Would you mind if I borrow these? Some of your ideas are original and could prove popular." He smiled when he noticed her blush again.

"If you like. I was only doing them for fun."

"Blushing suits you Carrie. It makes you look even sweeter and more innocent than usual. Anyway, I'd better be going. It's late and I'll need to be at work early if I'm going to have time to show these to Plutarch. Goodnight dear and sleep well." She stood with him to give him a quick hug and was pleasantly surprised when he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. It felt different from the usual ones he gave her, but nicer too.

"Night Seneca, see you tomorrow." She whispered into his jacket. Reluctant to let go of his warm body.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

0o0o0o0

It was a complicated day for Seneca with a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that perhaps the situation with Carrie was running a little _too_ smoothly. However he didn't have time to think about that because he was already running late for his own meeting. It was a chance to gather all the people who worked on the arena and get any last-minute ideas from the team and apply any that made it to the last cut. Before walking down the steps into the room the Head Game Maker paused and collected his breath to make sure he was calm and collected when he made his appearance. He strode in powerfully, commanding their attention, and when he took his place he dove right in.

"Apologies for my tardiness, lets get right into this. Has anybody here got any suggestions they would like to put forward?"

One of the men put his hand forward on the table; the indication that he had an idea. Seneca nodded his head, signalling his colleague to continue.

"I was thinking about the four tree-top dens we have in place this year. Perhaps it would be prudent to ensure none of them can be barricaded, something we missed in the original planning. I've heard that some districts are getting a little braver and more cunning. If any such Tributes display those behaviours it would be good to take them down a peg and teach them a lesson."

"I see. What do you have in mind?"

"A couple of the rope-ladders we have in place could be laced with a hallucinogenic poison. It would slowly seep though the tribute's hands and infect them so that they would be unable to think properly enough to defend themselves sufficiently if another Tribute comes along."

"Very good. Brinda, can you take care of that?" Seneca turned to the woman on his right who was in charge of poisons and traps.

"Certainly sir."

"Does anyone else have any ideas?" It was uncommon for there to be very many at this stage in the year as they usually put forth ideas earlier on in the season so it was no surprise when nobody else spoke. "Very well. I have come across a few ideas that should work well with this years' theme. I know we weren't planning on using mutts this year however this is something different. Imagine Human-mutts…designed to look like the fallen tributes when they die."

He paused to let that sink in before continuing. "I rang the test centre last night and they said it would be feasible to alter our previous attempts. If we take away the idea of giving them conscious thought and the ability to feel pain then we have a humane and unique idea for this years' Hunger Games. It won't matter that they only live a few hours because they will feel no pain. They will be conditioned to attack but not kill any living tributes they come across. The fear factor will be enough excitement."

"How will we replicate the looks of the tributes that die?"

"When they board the hovercraft before entering the games and are injected with the tracker we can take a sample of their blood at the same time and use it in the blank prep mutts we will have on stand-by. The mutts will stay in stasis until they are ready to be brought to 'life'."

The group broke out into murmurs and Seneca was happy to let them mull the idea over. He was positive they would agree. He looked forward to seeing Carrie's face when she saw he's used the basis of her idea and she saw the popularity of it amongst the people of the Capitol. He had taken her human-mutt idea and transformed it slightly by making them appear to be the risen dead, instead of just the generic dead 'zombies' she had drawn.

Finally the noise of the talking subdued and Plutarch spoke up.

"You've done it again Seneca. It's a brilliant idea. If we also mark the mutts with the wounds the tributes gained when they died then they will be even more effective. We can bloody them up a bit and make them up to look like a dead person come to life. I must ask though, how on earth did you come up with the idea in the first place?"

The Head Game Maker smiled and tapped the side of his nose, leaning back in his chair. "That's just the beginning my friend. Here are a list of other ideas." He passed around pieces of paper with the same list on each. He had taken the liberty of writing out in clear detail some of Carrie's other ideas. He would tell her about those that would be in the games and of course during interviews he would make sure to give her full credit. However the human-mutt was the cherry on top; her most brilliant idea that overcame all the previous problems they had encountered. That one would be kept as a surprise for her enjoyment when the time came and they were shown on television for all of Panem to see.

0o0o0

The main reason the day became difficult for Seneca came late afternoon. President Snow made a surprise visit to the Game Centre and Seneca found him in his office after the lunch break.

"Ah Seneca, so glad you're here. I have a proposition for you."

It was almost never good when Snow had a proposition.

"Sir?"

"Our little time traveller, as you well know, proved very popular at that dinner. She already has sponsors lining up to meet her however it's a pity she can't be widely known faster. I mean…just imagine how much income she would produce for the Capitol if she were, say, a Victor…"

"To be a Victor though she would have to go into the games…"

"Very observant of you Mr Crane." Snow commented dryly.

"With respect sir, she isn't even a citizen of Panem. And surely if she were to be classified as one then it would be a Capitol citizen since it's where she landed."

"Technically Seneca she is a nomad since she 'landed' in no-mans land. If she were to go through the games though _then_ she could be identified as a citizen of Panem because she would have gone through a 'rites of passage' so to speak. And _then_ you could put forward a case for her to be registered to the Capitol. It is up to you as Head Game Maker to decide if she is allowed to volunteer to go in_. When_ she wins, you will be free to be with her howeveryou wish."

Seneca visibly paled. He sat in silence for a short moment until clearing his throat and saying the only thing he could in the situation. "I understand."

0o0o0

Carrie was upset but understanding when Seneca rang to say he wouldn't be visiting that night. He explained that he had a lot of work to do and needed to get it done quickly. In reality he had gone to the Society centre, but to visit the security room instead. He spent the entire night awake, simply watching Carrie as she went about her usual routine. Nothing changed from when he was there apart from the fact that she only laid out one plate of food instead of two, and she didn't have a companion to talk to other than when Cinna rang to make sure she was alright.

Seneca stayed awake even when she slept. He realised it would likely be her last night of tranquillity. It was a peaceful night for her, and a horrendous one for him. Yet it was still going to get worst for them both. Tomorrow, Seneca would have to break the news to the young girl that she would be part of the blood-filled Hunger Games and face the difficult task of finding a mentor who would help him keep her alive.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

0o0o0o0

"I've got to be a Tribute? What the hell do you mean I have to be a Tribute?" Carrie sat on the edge of the sofa and was hunched so far forward Seneca was sure she would have fallen off if she hadn't been gripping the seat so tightly.

"I'm sorry Carrie. There is nothing I can do to stop it." Seneca stood beside the window, pinching the bridge of his nose hard to try not to lose control. In all honesty he wanted nothing more that to scream and shout as much as she was.

"Nothing you can do? _Nothing_ you can do! You're the bloody head game maker Seneca, if anyone has the power to stop this _you_ do!" she screamed, lunging to her feet. The older man really thought she was going to hit him, and he would have let her if she had of done.

"Carrie…you have to understand. The _president_ wants this. In these games he is the only man higher than me and there is no choice. But you _will_ win. I'll be doing everything in my power to keep you alive. You saw the technology we have; you've _seen_ the influence we have over everything that happens." He stepped forward tentatively to try and take her the hysterical girl in his arms but she shook him off.

"Everything but the other tributes Seneca. You have power over everything but them. All it will take is one of them to find me and I'm dead meat. And there are _24_ of them!" she shouted, waving her arms about as if to emphasise her point.

"Please Carrie, you have to understand how much I don't want this. If I could I would keep you safe, I would make sure nobody could hurt you and make sure you never had to go into this."

"Just leave. Get away from me." Seneca was taken aback by her sudden change of voice. It was quiet and subdued where before it had been loud and angry. He made another move towards her but she flinched away, turning her back to him until he left her in her quarters alone.

0o0o0

"Cinna go round and check on Carrie. I don't care what she says or does you must stay with her. Make sure she does nothing stupid. She's being sent into the games."

The stylist listened to the voice recording on his mobile phone for the fifth time whilst in the taxi over to Carrie's building, certain that there had to be a misunderstanding. There was just no way she would be becoming a tribute, there was no _reason_ for it. The taxi pulled up at the building and Cinna threw his fare to the driver without even waiting for the change before hurrying out the vehicle and into the building. If it was true, if Carrie was being sent into the games, there was no telling what she would do. In the past there had been tributes that had killed themselves before going into the games after they had been reaped rather than face the torture of the arena. Cinna was worried Carrie might choose the same fate.

The elevator rose infuriatingly slowly and Cinna began uncharacteristically tapped his foot impatiently. The elevator finally reached the right floor and Cinna was almost jogging to reach the right door number. He knocked loudly on the door, ignoring the Peacekeeper outside just as the man ignored him.

"Go away." Came the muffled reply. '_At least there was a reply.'_ He thought to himself. He knocked again.

"It's Cinna, let me in." He silently counted to ten before knocking again. "I'm not going away Carrie. I'll have the Peacekeeper knock this door down if I have to." That got the response he'd hoped for. The door creaked open and Cinna waited until the gap was large enough to fit through before striding in and pulling Carrie into a crushingly tight hug. "Is it true?" he whispered desperately. He felt the girl nod into his shoulder and her body fell limp in his arms. He nudged the door closed with his foot and half carried Carrie to the bed before sitting down and pulling her onto his lap, letting her cry onto his shoulder while he held her close and brushed his fingers through her hair.

Cinna was a naturally compassionate man, and if any other tribute had broken down crying he would have comforted them just the same but would have been able to stay composed himself. This was Carrie though; the girl who travelled through time; the girl who he had gotten to know; the girl who should have been safe from this sort of thing because she wasn't someone from the districts. She was just a girl lost in a time that wasn't her own.

Her cries continued for a long time but they weren't even wracking sobs; they were the near-silent cries of someone who was too upset to even have the energy to weep properly. The light from the windows darkened as evening fell and the pair lay on the bed, holding each other and taking comfort in the physical contact.

"Did _he_ send you?" Carrie finally choked out, hours later.

"Who?"

"Seneca."

"Yes. He was worried about you. Why isn't he here?"

"I told him to leave." Came the mumbled reply. Carrie was idly tracing patterns on Cinna's chest over his tear stained silk shirt. "Sorry about your shirt."

"I have more."

There were no words really for what each of them was thinking. What good would words do anyway? She was going into the games and there was nothing they could do about it.

0o0o0

Seneca was franticly calling around to make all the necessary arrangements. There was no doubt that this was to remain largely secret until reaping night, but that didn't mean he wouldn't let Carrie start training early. He had arranged with Atala at the tribute training centre for Carrie to begin preparations the following day. It could prove difficult getting her in and out of the building each day unnoticed so instead she was to be moved the following night. The Avoxes would undoubtedly know of her appearance but they were no danger. He would just have to keep the people who knew and could talk about this to a minimum.

It was amazing how quickly an opinion of something could change. Seneca was now sickened by his role in helping children murder one-another and all because Carrie would be in the games. He didn't yet understand his feelings towards her completely, only that he couldn't stand it if she were to die. He knew he would do almost anything to make sure she came out alive. Being Head Game Maker had never felt so important; he had the power to keep her as safe as possible, if only from his own traps. _'Oh god the traps!' _he thought to himself. He was going to have to use her own traps and ideas against her! The idea of the human-mutts now seemed so twisted. He would have to warn the girl about everything he possibly could.

With the arrangements for Carrie's move to the training centre sorted, Seneca decided she had had enough time to calm down and face him again. It didn't stop his trepidation though when he arrived at the building. It was late into the evening and his first stop was the security room.

"How's she been?" he asked the man on duty.

"She's been laying on the bed with the stylist since he arrived this morning sir. Only recently stopped crying."

"Have they eaten?"

"No sir."

"Keep a close eye on her. If she's on her own and you think she'd going to do something foolish send the peacekeeper straight in.

0o0o0

Seneca knocked on the door, patiently waiting to be let in. He chuckled slightly when he heard Carrie's muffled "Go away." and Cinna's attempt to convince her to get up out of the bed. Finally, it was the stylist who opened the door.

"You better have a good explanation." Came the first words out Cinna's mouth.

"May I come in?"

"No"

"Yes"

Came the simultaneous replies from Carrie and Cinna. Seneca decided to ignore Carrie's answer and walked in.

"You need to eat." Seneca said, sitting on the edge of the bed. The girl said nothing and only glared at him in silent protest. He let out a sigh and moved a piece of hair out of her tear stained face. "I'm going to cook something and you are going to eat it. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way." He said firmly, standing and walking into the kitchen. This was no time for her to be molly-coddled. She had to get muscle and weight on her and she had to start cooperating fast if he was going to be able to keep her alive.

"Come on sweetie, go get a shower while I help him cook. You do need to eat more now." Cinna said softly. He didn't catch her mumbled reply and sat back down on the bed to lean closer. "What was that?"

"I said 'can you stay with me?'" she quietly asked again, tears pricking at her eyes. He let out a soft sigh and tugged her close into his arms

"If that's what you need then of course." He whispered back. "Come on. You need a wash." She let him pull her up off the bed and was relieved when he didn't let go of her hand. Her legs felt so weak she was sure she was in danger of falling. In fact her whole body felt weak and limp with the fear pumping through her.

When they pair were done in the shower they dried, dressed, and exited to make their way to the kitchen just in time for Seneca to be serving the huge portions of Spanish omelette. The three ate in a strained silence and when they were all finished Seneca cleared his throat to get Carrie's attention.

"I've been ringing around today making arrangements. You'll be moving to the tribute centre early to begin training. You won't have much of a boost on the higher districts because they train all their lives, but you should be better than most of the lower districts by the time they get reaped." He said quietly.

"Is there really no way out of this?" she begged

"I'm afraid not. The president rang to see how things are going. He's going to arrange a meeting with me to sort some finer details out. He also wants it to look as though you volunteer to go in. He said he'd explain more when I see him. I need to choose your mentor next. It will be one of the Victors since they have the necessary experience. Once I've chosen one I'll have them brought here to help prepare you."

"Alright." Carrie nodded in a subdued manner. "May I go back to bed please?"

"Of course."

0o0o0

"Who do you think I should use as mentor for her?" Seneca asked Cinna heavily. The two men sat in the living area, each nursing a large measure of whiskey.

"Districts 1 and 2 have the highest survival rate."

"True, but most likely because they have the facilities to train from a young age. I was thinking of Abernathy, he's a foolish drunk but he was clever in his own games. She'll need cunning since she won't have the strength of most of the lads."

"You're right. But she'll need a hefty amount of sponsors too. Cunning as Abernathy is, potential sponsors won't want to talk with him if he doesn't clean up.

"That leave O'dair then." Seneca said thoughtfully. "It works on several levels really, 4 is popular enough that people know it. He's certainly popular enough to get her sponsors from the females alone because of his own fame…"

"…And if Carrie is put into his line of business afterwards then he would be a good one to teach her how to survive." Cinna finished softly.

Seneca hummed his agreement. Her future was not set in stone, but it was certainly looking more and more likely each day that she would be rented out if she won the games.

0o0o0

Finnick O'dair lay stretched out on the beach of District 4, happy to have some calm time before his appointments started up again around the time of the games. He had a full fortnight to enjoy time with Annie and his family and he was going to savour every moment of it. That was his plan before the hovercraft landed. He pulled Annie closer to him protectively, placing her cowering form slightly behind him while the ramp of the craft lowered.

"Ah Mr O'dair, what a lovely day to be sun bathing is it not. And the fair and beautiful Miss Cresta too."

Finnick watched in dismay as Seneca Crane descended, walking straight towards them.

"Head Game Maker Crane…what a lovely surprise to see you sir. Here for a short holiday?" Finnick replied in a strained voice.

"No I haven't the time for that I'm afraid, lots to do and all that. I have a little job for you though; you are required in the Capitol immediately. We'll supply everything you should need." The man smiled dangerously. He put on his most charming and predatory smile. Peacekeepers were waiting on the hovercraft should things turn nasty, but it would be much easier if the Victor would cooperate.

"I have a two week holiday sir. President Snow himself signed the letter of agreement." Finnick replied angrily. How dare they take away the one holiday he has from it all!

"Special situation. This overrides that; I have my own letter if you would like to read it, signed by the president this morning. Come now, won't this be much easier if you cooperate. You'll get your rest after the games instead, I assure you."

Finnick glared hatefully at the game maker. His nostrils flared as he fought not to shout and therefore scare Annie. He turned to her and said in a forced-calm voice.

"Run home Annie, tell my family I will see them in a few weeks. I love you." He placed a chaste kiss in the girls' forehead and nudged her in the right direction.

"I love you too." She whispered back, before running home as he had instructed. Finnick watched her go, taking a piece of his heart with her.

"Alright. Who is it and how old is she?" He asked in a deadened voice, going into his 'work' mode.

"Glad to see you cooperating Mr O'dair. Her name is Carrie and she is 17 years old. She is very dear to me so you shall take good care of her. I shall explain more as we journey over. Time's ticking and the sooner we're there the sooner you can get started."

"Jeez, she's just a child! How can you sick people give permission for a child to have a whore?" Finnick replied, disgusted once more by the Capitol's ways.

"Ah, we have a little misunderstanding. You are not required to sleep with her. In fact I strictly forbid it." Seneca said with a frown. "No kissing, fondling, or wooing of any kind unless I say otherwise."

"Then why do you need me?" Finnick asked, slightly calmer now that perhaps he wouldn't be forced to sleep with anyone for a couple of weeks after all. Seneca remained silent until they were both seated and the hovercraft was once again in the air.

"She is to be a Tribute. For now we shall call her a nomad for she is neither Capitol nor District. She shall be 'volunteering' to go in and you shall help her win." Seneca looked over his steepled fingers, his eyes hard as steel.

"With respect sir, the odds are usually bad enough for the tributes, throwing another one in does not improve it."

"You misunderstand me again O'dair. She. Will. Win. You will keep our work together a secret. You will do as you are told. You will bring this girl out alive even if it kill you because believe me when I say that if she does not live then neither will you. Am I understood?" Seneca asked, eyes flashing. Finnick gulped; there would be no getting out of this situation.

"Perfectly sir."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

0o0o0o0

Seneca and Finnick strode down the long corridor towards Carrie's new quarters in the tribute training centre, discussing what the mentor would need to know.

"This is top secret and she is your priority now; I don't care what tributes you get from your own district, you will concentrate on Carrie."

"May I enquire why she is volunteering to go into the games sir? It is unheard of for there to be a tribute outside of the districts."

"No you may not. The more you know the more in danger she will be at this stage. You shall know soon enough and not before." Seneca replied tersely. Until he knew he could rely on the victor he was unhappy disclosing too much information. "You shall have no contact outside of this building. If you wish to send a letter to your family then pass it to me and I shall see that it reaches them."

"It's alright. They're used to me disappearing for a few weeks without any notice." Finnick seethed darkly. Seneca glanced sideways at the younger man; would this be what Carrie turned into? Would she share his fate?

"Very well. Carrie will begin training later today. Since you are a victor you will be able to give her some more specific pointers for what to expect so you'll be allowed to be in the training room with her to help Atala prepare her. You won't be able to be there once the other tributes are reaped and of course you must not tell anyone about her training in advance. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir" Finnick replied wearily. The pair approached Carrie's door. It had been a stroke of luck that a spare floor had opened up, enabling her to use it for this year. Though Seneca strongly suspected President Snow had been shifting things around for a while to enable this to happen so suddenly. It just went to show how much could be hidden from even the Head Game Maker, he hadn't known a floor would be opened up for Carrie and frankly he didn't know _how_ it had been freed up.

Finnick had a bad feeling about this girl. The games this year were being rigged for her to volunteer and win but he couldn't work out why. Did she not know what life of a victor would be like? Whatever the reason, he didn't like or trust her. Each year there was always a chance both his tributes would die but there was also a chance, no matter how slim, that one would win. This girl took that away. No matter where she came from she was already a traitor to the districts in Finnick's eyes.

"Here we are then. No funny business, you're not needed for that here." Seneca warned whilst rapping his knuckled on the door.

"Seneca!" Carrie cried, flinging the door open and wrapping him in her arms. "I was worried you wouldn't be back till tomorrow." She murmured into his shoulder. He grinned at her open affection, wrapping his own arms around her warm body.

"Hello Carrie. I thought you weren't talking to me, much less hugging me." He replied bemused. The girl drew back and stuck her tongue out.

"Thank Cinna for talking me round." She said quietly, gesturing into the room at her stylist who was sketching something into his book at the dining table. "I don't like it here Seneca. The peacekeepers are meaner and don't smile or talk. And the décor is so…formal." She wrinkled her nose up. It was true that the rooms were much less welcoming than her old quarters. The floor and walls were the same smooth dark and shiny material; most of the furniture was so 'fashionable' it was uncomfortable, and the ceiling was high and created an even more daunting feel to the rooms.

"It's to unnerve the tributes and remind them how small and unimportant they are in this vast Capitol. I'm Finnick O'dair and Mr Crane has requested me to be your mentor." Finnick strutted forward and held his hand out to the smaller girl, smiling cockily. Carrie glanced sideways at Seneca, who nodded his head in encouragement, and shook Finnick's hand.

"Thank you Mr O'dair. And I think you may be right about the theme of the room." She stepped back behind the safety of Seneca. "I've seen you in a few magazines I think. And your victory in the 64th Hunger Games is well known of course.."

"Rule number 1, girly; don't talk about a Victor's personal games to them unless they open the subject." Finnick frowned, ignoring Seneca's glare in his direction.

"S…sorry." Carrie mumbled, blushing and staring down at her feet. "Would you like a drink?" she asked instead.

"No, thank you for the offer though." He answered. "Mr Crane said that you would be starting your training later today. I would like to talk with you and find out what you are good at before we go down."

"Of course. Come and have a seat. The sofas are more comfortable than the dining chairs." Carrie led the way towards the luxurious seats and flitted through the window option until it looked like they were overlooking a lake, she admired some of the ducks quacking on the water before turning her attention to her mentor. Seneca discreetly left them to it, knowing Finnick would be more relaxed with him out of the way, and went to sit with Cinna at the table, starting on his own paperwork.

"Right then Carrie. Do you have any skills that are worth noting?" Finnick asked, diving into the questions to try work out how easy or difficult it would be getting her sponsors and keeping her alive.

"I was pretty good at cross country running at school and used to do a lot of horse riding. Oh and my mother took me and my brother swimming once a week. My brother would try and teach me about different plants, but that isn't very applicable here." She ended with a thoughtful frown.

"Identifying plants would be a useful skill in the games actually Carrie. Are you very good at sprinting? You'll need that particularly at the initial Bloodbath."

Carrie paled at his words. "I was never much of a sprinter. What do you mean 'Bloodbath'?"

"Surely you've seen the games if you're volunteering to go in? When the tributes first enter the games they are in a circle around the Cornucopia. It's usually the highest body count at a single time in the games. You need to either get out fast or be amongst the most bloodthirsty to be able to survive it. Even then it's not guaranteed that you won't get a stray spear or sword stuck in you." He took in Carrie's pale face and mouth hung open. Perhaps she didn't know that much about the games after all. "Look, you're volunteering to go in, surely you should know about this." He said frustrated.

"I'm volunteering to go in about as much as the other tributes Mr O'dair." She whispered finally. "I've seen a few clips of the games but none of them were of this 'bloodbath'. I'm fortunate that I'm allowed to train early, but the other tributes are going to be far more prepared than I am; they have grown up knowing about the dangers of the arena." She admitted.

"Fuck." He muttered. She was much harder to hate if she was being forced into this as well. And she was right; at least the other tributes knew what to look out for. He was going to have to walk her through every possible scenario it looked like. "We'll start from the beginning then. You'll go up in a tube and there will be a countdown. Do not under any circumstances step off your platform at that time or you'll be blown to pieces by mines. Once the countdown has stopped it'll be safe to step off. I advise you to run the hell away as fast as you can. You'll need to find water and try and get up high so you have an advantage if anyone sees you…"

Carrie listened with rapt attention while Finnick spoke her through the first few essential days if she was still alive by that point. He made mention of climbing, hunting, foraging, fighting, alliances; everything he could think of. It sounded more and more ominous as he went on. He stopped after half an hour when he noticed tears falling down her face.

"Do you need a moment to collect your thoughts?" he asked softly after mentioning traps that the game makers inevitably set off each year when there hadn't been enough action. She shook her head, glancing up and spotting Seneca walking towards her. He had seen her start to become more and more upset, though he hadn't heard what the two were talking about.

"Carrie, are you alright?" The head Game Maker asked softly, reaching for her hand. She snatched it away and started shaking her head repetitively.

"No…no I'm not alright Seneca. If I don't get killed in the Bloodbath then I have to find water and if I don't find water then I'll die of dehydration. And that's assuming I don't die of hunger, or another tribute doesn't catch me first, or that you don't set off traps to kill me just to spice things up for the audience. I am so far into the realms of _not_ alright." She said, voice rising hysterically. Stunned silence followed her small speech, until Seneca snapped angrily.

"I'm not going to set off traps on you Carrie. In case you didn't pick up on the things I've been telling you I'll say them again; it's my job to keep you alive. That means keeping the careers away from you and sending you food and water if you don't find them yourself. Are you really so dense that you missed everything I've been saying?" He shouted red faced. He wasn't sure what reaction he expected by being so harsh, but it certainly wasn't having her burst out crying and fleeing from the room.

"You're going to have to learn how to handle her better if you want her to stay alive." Finnick said nonchalantly, smirking at the other man's outburst. It was the first time he had seen the Capitol man be anything less than dignified and kept-together.

"Shut it fish-boy." Seneca growled.

0o0o0

"Carrie please let me in." Seneca had been banging on the door to her room for the past half an hour with no success. All they had heard was banging and crashing from inside the bedroom punctuated occasionally by what sounded like war cries. "Please Carrie. I'm sorry for upsetting you and it was wrong of me to speak so harshly to you. If you come out then we can talk this over and go through the plan." He called through the door. In his opinion it was improper of Finnick to be getting so much satisfaction from watching him beg through a door.

"Now you know how us mentors feel when our tributes behave like this." The district man smiled darkly. "Good luck telling the rest of them that _none_ of their kids are coming out alive by the way."

"I told you before to shut up O'dair." Seneca shot back. "And none of the other mentors are going to know a thing." He added.

"Not the best route if you ask me. We may be a bunch of screwed up murderers, but even we would appreciate knowing when there is no chance of our tributes surviving. You could also try convincing them to tell their tributes to stay away from Carrie, it'll make your job much easier." He reasoned, taking a large bite from an apple at the table.

"The man has a point Seneca." Cinna contributed without looking up from the sketch he was still working on. "You might even get a few to work out a short alliance with Carrie. The mentors can't be as heartless as you think they are, especially when they learn of her future." He looked up and bobbed his head towards Finnick, giving Seneca a meaningful look. Finnick caught this however, interpreting it all too correctly.

"You can't mean after she wins she's going to have to do what…what _I_ do?" he asked in a low and horrified voice.

"It's not set in stone but what else would happen to her? This is being rigged for her; that can't be a coincidence." Cinna explained quietly.

"Does she know?"

"No, and we're not going to tell her. She might not have to and I don't want her to panic and do something stupid." Seneca said, equally as quiet once he'd walked over to the table.

"Is it safe to be talking so…_openly_ here?" Finnick asked, suddenly nervous of the consequences of talking about the 'job'.

"We're not saying anything wrong Mr O'dair. So long as none of this gets out, we can talk quietly between ourselves" Cinna assured the man. "We're going to be late for Atala if she doesn't come out soon." He added, addressing Seneca.

"Let me try." Finnick suggested.

"Be my guest." Seneca sighed rubbing his hand, sore from all the knocking he'd been doing. He jumped suddenly though when a loud bang echoed across the room. The door to Carrie's bedroom swung open under the force of Finnick's shoulder and he watched with a raised eyebrow when the mentor walked straight in. "Well that's one way." He muttered to himself.

0o0o0

"You're going to be late for training and I need to assess you." Finnick said in his best no-nonsense voice. Admittedly he wasn't too sure what the girls reaction would be to this tactic, but it was worth a go. He was still upset at being dragged away from his Annie so he wasn't in the mood to mollycoddle this girl in front of him right now.

"I don't care, I'm dead anyway." She muttered, curling into a tighter ball to stop from hitting anything. It was then that Finnick took notice of the state of the room he was in. The lamp by the bed was smashed on the floor; the bedding was crumpled in a heap on the corner of the room; feathers from the duck-down pillows were scattered all over and some still fluttered down in the air. He looked carefully at the girl with her back to him; the muscled in her arms flexed repeatedly and he could just make out her jaw clenched tightly. It reminded him of how he sometimes caught Johanna acting.

"You will be dead if you keep saying that…but you look angry to me. Anger is good. Anger is fuel for the fire inside you." He took a step closer. "What if I told you that you weren't good enough, that you are as good as dead? What if I told you that you aren't worth saving?" He whispered close to her ear. He smirked when he saw her curl tighter in on herself like a coil and heard her snarl lowly. "What if I told you that you are too weak and useless? What if I said that your family won't miss you when you die?" He purred in his most seductive voice. It got the reaction he wanted. Carrie sprung up and lashed out, growling as she struck him on the cheek and jumping onto his body to wrap her arms and legs around, just like Johanna did when pushed far enough.

Seneca and Cinna came rushing into the room and stared in open shock at what they saw; Carrie and Finnick rolled around on the floor, each trying to get the upper hand. The girl was trying her hardest to bite and kick any part of the young man that she could, and while he deflected most of the blows he refused to send any back at her. Just as the two men watching thought they'd have to separate the mentor and his tribute, Finnick rolled Carrie over onto her back and sat on her thighs whilst pinning her arms above her head. She thrashed under him viciously gnashing her teeth.

"She has anger!" Finnick shouted laughing over the noise of his tribute.

0o0o0

"You lack finesse and you definitely need to build some muscle but as long as you keep that anger in the arena then you stand a decent chance of survival." Finnick said from across the table. He had eventually freed Carrie when she ran out of energy and he was sure she wouldn't attack him again. She was still glowering at him though, even while Cinna rubbed soothing circles on her back. "Harness it, wear it like armour, but do not let it get the better of you. If you attacked another tribute like that then so long as they were smaller and weaker than you, you'd be able to overcome them. Anyone stronger or larger and they'd have you pinned and dead in seconds. We're going to head down to the training room now and I want to concentrate on technique. You've worn yourself out too much to try any of the moves properly but I can still walk you through them. We'll try them fully when you have more energy."

"So in other words I'm useless…just like you said." Carrie muttered, more upset than angry now she had worked it out her system.

"No you are not. I said that to get you angrier, I could see it bubbling in you, though it took more than I thought to get you to lash out." he said. "I didn't mean a word of it." He assured her, softening his face and voice.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I don't like hurting people" She stopped glowering and tears began to well in her eyes.

"Don't worry, I've had much worst." Finnick smiled easily. "But what do you do when you get angry? Have you never fought anyone before?" he asked curiously.

"I've never physically fought anyone. I mean, people have grabbed at me and hit me and stuff but I just wriggle out of their grasp and run away or lay there till they stop." She shrugged, casting her eyes down and fidgeting anxiously. "I'm going to have to kill people in there aren't I." She whispered, a statement more than a question.

"I'm afraid so sweetie. But it's between your life or theirs." Finnick admitted.

"What makes me so special that I deserve to live more than they do though? They have families to go back to, friends to win for." She asked, looking up with eyes begging for an answer.

"It's your life or theirs. Only you can decided what your worth." Finnick smiled sadly. He too had questioned himself the same way before his own games, but once in the arena killing in defence became second nature. And that was only a short step to actively searching and killing tributes so that he could get back to his own family. An act that still haunted him.

"Come on, we're already late." Seneca said, uncomfortable with the path the conversation had taken and anxious to get them to stop talking about it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N: **The chapters might be a little short for a while because I have a lot of ideas swirling around and when tried combining them into long chapters it seemed far too chaotic.

0o0o0o0

Carrie had spent the previous few days training hard but was making slow progress. Seneca had seen with his own eyes just how much of a disadvantage Carrie was compared to even the lower district tributes. Unless she was angry she refused to fight; she lacked the self-preservation she needed and to make things worst it was a very fine line for her between being angry and being upset. Finnick had noticed a sudden spurt of anger in her one afternoon, coinciding with when she caught sight of some woman standing beside Seneca. The angry punches, no doubt caused by jealousy, had faded after a few minutes into lethargic slaps until she stopped altogether and asked for a break, then simply walked out of the room. Finnick had followed only to find her sitting on the floor crying.

That same night while Carrie slept and the men stayed up talking about various ways to keep her alive, Finnick had exclaimed that the only sure fire way was if she had a bodyguard in there to make sure she never had to fight someone herself. Seneca's eyes had lit up and he'd praised Finnick for his genius before walking out without an explanation.

0o0o0

"Carrie I have a present for you! Are you awake?" He called into the quarters from the hallway. The only response he got was from Cinna and Finnick who exited from their separate rooms asking what Seneca was hollering about. The head game maker had answered by leading an enormous dog-like creature into the shared common area.

"What the hell is that?" Finnick asked backing away from the animal that, even on all fours, easily came up to his chest.

"This would be Carrie's bodyguard." Seneca announced proudly. "I had the genetics chap in the mutation rooms tweak it all night. We were going to save them for next year but they'll do far more good this year helping Carrie." He explained, scratching the apparently friendly dog-mutt behind the ear. "I'll send him into the games at some point to meet up with her."

"What're you lot shouting about at this time in the morning?" Carrie asked yawning, emerging from her room in a bathrobe. "Woah! What's that?" she said pointing at the large beast in surprise.

"Your new pet. He'll be keeping your company for a little bit until the other tributes are reaped." Seneca said, handing her the lead. "Keep him on the leash for now, I'm not exactly sure how he'll behave inside." He added with uncertainty.

"Oh my word thankyou, thankyou, thankyou." She squealed, throwing her arms around him again and kissing his cheek lightly before devoting her attention to the oversized dog. It was almost the same height as her seeing as she was shorter than Finnick.

Her moods with Seneca had been blowing hot and cold since she'd learnt she was going to be a tribute. She didn't know how to act with him seeing as one minute she thought of him as her friend who would be almost single-handedly protecting her from inside the control room, and the next moment she'd remember he was in charge of the whole thing even if it wasn't him who ordered her to go in. The silver lining for the group was that her moods with Cinna and Finnick seemed relatively consistent and peaceful. Finnick was even warming up to her somewhat. He felt terrible that his district tributes had no chance of survival; but then again the odds weren't great in any year, which softened the blow somewhat. At least he was mentoring someone who was almost certain to come out alive. It was as close to safe as he would get in regards to allowing the bond of friendship with Carrie to continue happening. He didn't have to keep his emotions in check and prepare himself for her imminent death like with all previous tributes. Of course, it was bound to be easier before he actually met the tributes from district 4 for the year.

0o0o0

"Come, Mutt." Carrie called. Her pet trotted obediently to her side as she strode down the corridor to the training room. There was one week to go until Reaping day and she had successfully built up her strength and muscle. Cinna called in 'memory muscle'. Claiming that since she had been fit before she arrived in Panem, her body found it easy to rebuild what she had lost in the time she's spent idle since arriving.

The girl and her beast entered the training room and went to stand in front of Finnick, who was dressed in only exercise trousers.

"We're going to be working on sword combat today Carrie. Seneca will take Mutt out the room so that he won't attack me if he thinks I'm hurting you." The girl nodded in understanding and ordered her pet over to the other man. "Go grab your weapon." Finnick instructed. She chose a medium length sword, blunted for the purposes of training, and stood in the ready stance he had taught her. He feinted towards her; she began to follow before swinging her sword towards his open side, though he deflected it easily.

"You look like you're comfortable with that." He commented lightly, stepping towards her for a strike to the leg, which she blocked.

"Bit heavier than I'm used to." She admitted in a vacant voice. He was used to this with her now. When she was focused on fighting she appeared to take on a completely different personality. It would serve her well if she could keep it up in the arena.

"When have you fought with swords?" he asked curiously, stepping away from her next hit.

"I was part of a live-role-play group. We only used fake weapons to fight but the theory and movements are the same as when in character. Nghh…" She grunted when he caught her across the shoulder. They were both pulling their blows but the force of it still stung.

"Different kind of role-play than I've heard of." Finnick smirked lecherously.

"Oh there's that too, you kinky sod, if you search hard enough for the right people." She was beginning to get breathless keeping a conversation up at the same time, causing her to miss hitting his hip by mere inches.

"So tell me, who are you returning to once out of the games?" He was trying to distract her.

"None of your business." She scowled. She ducked under his arm and rolled up on the other side of him, catching him neatly across the back. "Tell me, just how kinky are you O'dair? I've heard a few tales."

His eyes darkened and he swung round, seductively purring

"Wouldn't you like to find out little girl?"

"Oh I don't think you could handle me." She grinned playfully, parrying his onslaught of blows.

"Have to put that to the test won't we." He teased half-heartedly, before striking the back of her knees and successfully bringing her to the floor in front of him. She gasped, gripping his legs to keep from falling completely. "You're good enough to survive against someone weaker or less agile than you. Stay away from the rest." He said, offering his hand to help her stand. "Go tie some knots. See how many you can do today."

Seneca, who had been standing on the sidelines strolled over to Finnick casually and once he was sure Carrie was out of earshot began to question the Victor.

"How do you think she'll do in there?" he asked quietly. Finnick shrugged,

"Depends on how she reacts once she's in there. It's all very well training and pretending to fight, but when someone rushes for you with bloodlust in their eyes…well that's the moment you'll find out what she's made of."

"What do you mean 'what she's made of'?"

"Look Crane, the one who comes out Victor each year is the one who's most vicious. Being in there changes a person anyway; simply by killing another person we become less human. But to be a Victor you need to want to live, and living means killing in the arena. The problem with Carrie is she's too compassionate. Sure she talks a good talk when she's riled up and angry, but the deal breaker is: she doesn't want to kill. Not really. She's got to _want_ it to do it. If she doesn't when she's in the arena…well the only way she'll win is with a heck of a lot of luck."

"You know I'll be working to keep her safe, and between the two of us she should get a decent amount of sponsors." Seneca pointed out.

"Doesn't matter in the long run. You've seen tributes come out Victors even without a lot of sponsors. They may not have had the fancy stuff given to them but they were brutal and lucky. Carrie will certainly need all the help we can give her, but all it will take is a spear and she'd be lucky to survive. You can play God all you like, but only time will tell if she actually makes it out." Finnick said. "Anyway, what's it to you if she lives or dies?"

"She's irreplaceable." Seneca answered softly, looking over at her as she nimbly continued tying different knots that were drawn and described on flash cards at the station.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N:** Thankyou 'Blue' for your reviews, they certainly help keep me writing.

0o0o0o0

It was the night before Reaping day and Seneca finally admitted he needed to tell Carrie something that he had been putting off for a while.

"Carrie, may I come in please? I need to talk to you." Seneca knocked gently on the door to her bedroom; although it was wide open he still felt it polite to knock.

"Sure. What is it?" She smiled softly, putting her diary down and looking up at him. He sat next to her where she had patted the bed and took a deep breath. "What's wrong Seneca?" She asked with concern.

"Do you remember when you designed a couple of arenas and some traps that day I took you to see the game centre? " She nodded her head. "Well…before I knew you were going to be a tribute I put a few of those ideas to the other game makers…they really liked some of them…" He explained uncomfortably.

She cottoned on to what he was trying to say and saved him the effort of finding the right words. "Some of them are going to be in the arena this year aren't they." She said glumly. When he nodded his head in agreement she sighed resignedly and slumped towards him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Do you want to know what's going to be in the arena?" he asked gently wrapping an arm around her. She shook her head.

"No, I'll need to react to everything realistically. I already have too much of an advantage over the others anyway." She said, though against her better judgement. They two sat in companionable silence for a while, gaining comfort from the proximity of one another. Eventually Carrie curled into a ball, resting her head on Seneca's lap while he stroked her hair absentmindedly.

"Try not to kill me with my own idea's please." She murmured, tracing circles on his knees even while her eyes began to droop shut with tiredness.

"I won't be trying to kill you at all." He replied with a strained smile.

0o0o0

"Time to wake up Carrie!" Cinna called, walking into her bedroom on the morning of Reaping day. He came to an abrupt standstill though when he saw her and her sleeping companion curled against one another resting peacefully. He shook his head bemusedly and resumed walking up the sleeping girl.

"Come on sweetie, you need to start getting ready and make sure you have everything memorized for your interview later." He shook her shoulder gently and waited for her eyes to open blearily.

"What time is it?" she asked with a small yawn.

"Just before 7. Come on, eat breakfast then I can start getting you ready." She nodded reluctantly and wriggled out of Seneca's warm hold. The two had fallen asleep on the bed together and she found she felt better rested for the companionship. Patting her leg to signal her Mutt to follow she made her way to the dining room with Cinna, where a full breakfast spread was waiting for them.

"Sleep well flower?" Finnick asked innocently, breaking the act when he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She threw her napkin across the table at him.

"Shut up." She grumbled, blushing with embarrassment. Her mentor chuckled and leaned over to ruffle her hair affectionately.

"It's alright to find comfort in sleeping with someone Carrie, you shouldn't be embarrassed."

"We didn't sleep together like that." She whispered horrified at the conclusion he'd reached, and going an even deeper shade of red.

"I know, I know. Don't get so defensive. But it'll be easier if you get used to needing someone now before the arena…afterwards you probably are going to need someone sleeping next to you most of the time if you hope to get any sleep." Finnick explained patiently. It was one of the first times he'd spoken about what it would be like for Carrie after the arena, she wasn't sure how to take it.

"What do you mean?" she asked uncomfortably.

"A lot of the victors I know suffer with nightmares, everyone has their own coping method and sleeping with someone next to you will probably be the best for you. You don't want to go down the drink or morphling route if you can help it. Onto more imminent things though; are you ready for your interview later? Got everything you need to say memorized?" he asked seriously.

A few days into her training the president had rung Seneca with detailed instructions about how Carrie's 'situation' was going to work; the day of the reaping she was going to be on Caesar Flickerman's show and her existence was going to be broadcast. She was then going to admit to volunteering to enter the games. Finnick, though, still did not know she came from the past, he only knew she had been given a loose script to follow and that President Snow and Seneca were going to be with her during the interview. After the inevitable chatter that would break out Seneca would speak up and say that he had been over the rules to the Hunger Games and had found nothing to say she couldn't volunteer as tribute. Snow would then make a little speech and the interview would end.

"Yes." Carrie nodded, going an unnatural shade of green. It made her feel ill to think that by that evening she would officially be a tribute. "I think I might skip breakfast Cinna." She whispered faintly to the man sitting beside her. "I'm going to go shower. I'll meet you in the living area afterwards ok?" Her stylist nodded his head in understanding, continuing his own breakfast when she had excused herself, shuffling away with a hand resting on her mutt for reassurance.

"Poor girl looks like she's going to throw up." Finnick stated with a sad smile.

"You probably looked like that too when you got reaped." Cinna pointed out.

"Oh definitely…In fact I think I _was_ ill." He mused. "Did Crane ever decide whether or not he wants the other mentors knowing? I still recon it'd work to his advantage, at least with some of them." He speared another sausage.

"Ask him yourself." True enough the Head Game Maker was walking towards them, redressed in fresh clothes and looking as immaculate as ever.

"Ask me what?" he said, sitting down and reaching for the fruit salad.

"Are you going to let the other mentors in on your little secret?"

"How many of them can be trusted not to spread the news?"

"The ones with families that are at risk if they do spill the beans." Finnick snorted in open disgust. "Most of them are pretty decent if you give them a chance. Though I advise _you_ to stay away from them and let me explain things if you want them to help." He added.

"Very well. Tell them when you see them; just make sure you aren't overheard. In fact get them in here, Carrie's quarters aren't bugged since she can be trusted not to put a toe out of line." Seneca said agreeably.

"Useful to know." Finnick murmured under his breath.

0o0o0

After breakfast Cinna met Carrie in the living area, holding out a beautiful dress he'd designed and created for her to wear. He admitted to having a small collection made up for the various interviews she would be attending and that this one would be a good 'introductory' outfit. He had even contacted a jeweller to make her a small pin of the Union Jack flag to her to wear whenever she was seen in public after he'd seen a drawing she'd done of the flag.

"It is truly stunning Cinna, thankyou." Carrie smiled feeling the silken material of her custom made outfit.

"Today is your day Carrie, and you're going to shine. Come on, let us get you made up ready for this afternoon." The stylist said ushering her off the sofa so she could put the dress on. He had received his certificate saying he passed his course in full a little over a week ago, along with a letter of permission from President Snow to be Carrie's official stylist. Following Cinna's strict orders, Carrie had dutifully kept her body to the Capitol's standard, although Cinna refused to let her have any surgery done. Because she didn't need her body waxing or hair cutting it made the process of preparing her for the interview much quicker

He helped her shimmy into the white strapless dress that fell to just below her knees, next Cinna pulled out a wide red ribbon around her waist to help cinch it in, though Carrie thought the tight corset she was wearing under the dress did a pretty good job of slimming her figure as it was.

Once dressed Carrie sat down and patiently waited as Cinna began applying her makeup, painting blue colour to her nails, and styling her hair. He pinned it up to show off her slim neck. The entire process took a little over four hours.

"Cinna, why don't I have a team to do this like the other tributes do?" She asked curiously, careful to keep from moving while he finished her hair.

"We're still keeping you a bit of a secret at the moment before your big unveiling in…" he checked his watch "…two hours time. Anyway, who's to say I'd trust anyone else with you?" he teased gently, giving her a peck on the cheek to indicate he had finished. She turned around and stood up, relieved to be able to stretch after being sat down for so long. She took a good look in the mirror and turned to beam at him.

"Thankyou Cinna you're wonderful! I know I say that every time you make me up, but I really do appreciate it. I don't know how you manage it." She grinned, taking another look at her reflection. She could still see herself in the girl she saw in the mirror, but all her small imperfections were covered up and her finer features were emphasized.

"It's all part of the job sweetie." He assured her. "Now then, lets sneak you out the back entrance to avoid being seen and get you to this interview. You'll need some time to run over some last minute lines and check you have everything memorized."

0o0o0

Carrie, strictly forbidden from watching the other reapings, bounced her knees nervously as she waited in a little room by herself. She had watched on a wall embedded screen the live feed of the stage. Professor Merrin had made a brief appearance and, using scientific words she couldn't begin to understand, explained how her body differed to everyone else in Panem and how she had reacted negatively to their medicine and needed to be weaned onto it so that it wouldn't harm her in proper doses. That had been news to her; she hadn't known her food had been laced with drugs in the weeks she'd spent in the Society's building. Though it would make things easier if she could now actually be treated if she needed medicine.

Caesar had, naturally, gasped in disbelief and asked if they were certain she was from the past, to which President Snow assured them it was true…and of course Capitol folk took his word as law. Seneca had offered up a few funny anecdotes about his time spent with her and her transition to Capitol life, admitting that he already thought of her as one of them.

One of the studio assistants, gaping openly in awe, finally came to collect Carrie to go on stage. She was glad she'd skipped breakfast and lunch because the thought of sitting in front of an audience, being broadcast for the whole of Panem, made her feel worryingly queasy.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, lets give a big round of applause to Miss Carrie Jane Smith!" A greatly tanned man with unnaturally white teeth and even more unnaturally coloured hair stood and held his hand out, presumably for Carrie to take. The audience was deafening in their roars of welcome and the thundering applause they gave. The bright light stunned Carrie and she was glad to have the strange man's hand to guide her to a white seat on the stage. Her plush chair was nestled between President Snow and the host of the show: Caesar Flickerman, who's bright red lips and matching hair and eyebrows where alarming enough, but the red powder on his eyes gave him a an even more frightening appearance. Not helped by the coordinated red suit he wore.

"Tell me Carrie…is it true? Did you really travel through time?" He asked, staring at her intensely. The crowd hushed until the silence was almost as deafening as the noise had been.

"Yes. Yes I did." She said.

"And tell me dear, what was it like in the year 2012?" They way he drew out the number made it some oddly exotic, which she supposed to them it must be. One of the cards of prompts she had written out to memorise flashed in her memory: Big up the Capitol.

"Not nearly as beautiful or advanced as here if I'm honest." She said, adding a demure smile to her face. She noticed the audience smile widely and a few nodded their heads as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that their life was better than the savage past.

"Now, I must say that is a charming accent you have young lady. Did all of your people speak as attractively as you?" Caesar's eyes glinted with enthusiasm, he was leaning far forwards and struggling to remain composed. This entire story would send the show's rating through the roof!

"You are too kind Caesar!" Carrie giggled. "Though there were a lot of different accents in my country as I am sure there are in yours, they each had their own appealing sounds."

"I think we're all wondering the same thing Carrie: how did you do it? How did you travel through _time_? Professor Merrin explained to us what happened after you were discovered, and your genetic differences, but we'd all love to hear your story." Again the audience shouted out their agreement. Carrie paused and smiled before answering.

"Honestly, I don't know how or why it happened. One minute I was out for a walk and then suddenly there was a flash of lightening and the sound of thunder. The next thing I know I'm waking up surrounded by mountains, there are howls of wild creatures in the distance, and night was approaching in fast. I'll admit I have never see anything as large as your mountains in my _life_." She let out a short girlish giggle, which the audience chuckled along to.

"You poor thing you must have been terrified!" Caesar exclaimed breathlessly, placing his hand dramatically over his heart.

"Yes I really was. I was so sure that I was going to die out there." The room sobered at her words. "I was so relieved when I survived through the night, though I didn't sleep a wink. In the morning I tried searching for a town or a village; any sign of human life…but there was none. I climbed up high and saw nothing but wilderness in all directions. Can you imagine how scared I was? But then I saw something coming towards me in the sky. It was just a glint, but I knew that it was no animal. I must have screamed myself hoarse trying to attract its attention." She gave a wry smile at the memory. "I now know it was a hovercraft."

"Yes, yes, very wise move." Caesar commented. "We were told about how ill you were when you arrived after your time in the wilderness and how you got worst when the medics administered medicine to help you. You were close to death's door were you not?"

"Yes that's what I was told. When I woke up I remember feeling very weak and unwell. It took me several long days to recover."

"And do you miss your family? We're told you had an older brother at home whom you were close to, do you miss him?"

Carrie fought back tears at his words, nodded her head and said thickly "Very much so. I miss him most of all." Caesar made sympathetic noises and leant forward to pat her hand.

"Do you think you'll be able to get back home to your time?"

The girl took a deep breath and gave a small shrug. "I honestly don't know. But I do know that I'm enjoying it very much here in the Capitol and that if I ever do go home, I would miss you all very much. I may not know very many people yet, but I can already tell what a kind and generous nation you are." She gave them a winning smile before turning back to the host, careful to keep her smile fixed in place.

"Yes, you've been keeping hidden haven't you, you naughty girl." Caesar gave her a cheeky wink and playfully wagged his finger at her. "I'll admit I heard some rumours but I didn't for a moment believe them I'm ashamed to say. You had a private party thrown in your honour did you not? What was it like celebrating Capitol style?"

"Yes, President Snow very graciously held a party for me. It was absolutely fabulous, the company was wonderful, and the food was delightful."

"I know you have not been here for very long, but what would you say you love most about Panem so far?" Carrie collected herself and pretended to think for a moment before smiling again and repeating her pre-arranged answer.

"I would have to say the Hunger Games, Caesar. As soon as I learnt about them I fell in love with everything they stood for." Beside her President Snow cracked a grandfatherly smile, nodding along with the audience who had broken out into a smattering of applause and cheers.

"Ah that is wonderful news, it is a favourite to all of us as well. Though speaking of the Hunger Games, I'm curious about why you chose today to announce yourself. As you must know today is Reaping day; a very important time for us all."

Carrie took a deep breath, composed herself, and looked Caesar straight in the eye, mustering as much courage as she could.

"Today is the perfect day actually Caesar, and rather appropriate I thought. I am volunteering to go into the Hunger Games as a tribute, a sacrifice in an attempt to pay for the failings of my time. Just as the districts must pay for the uprisings, I too feel I must pay for the foolish mistakes made by mankind from my time."

As if they knew the script, Caesar and the audience let out gasps and exclamations of surprise. "A brave and noble gesture my girl, but is this even allowed? As we all know there are _24_ tributes. Is there room for a 25th?" Caesar turned his attention to the waiting Head Game Maker. Seneca dipped his head in confirmation.

"As soon as Carrie put this proposition to me I at once felt my heart go out to her, as you say it is an incredibly generous and noble thing for her to do. I scoured the rulebook and found nothing to suggest she wouldn't be allowed to volunteer. Really, this is no different from when there are volunteers in the districts." Seneca beamed proudly.

"And how do you feel about this Mr President?" Caesar asked eagerly, turning to the white haired man.

"I think it is a wonderful thing Miss Smith is doing. She is a fine example of how tributes should act, and I wish her luck in the arena. This is just what our forefathers must have dreamt of when they created the Hunger Games; a way of knitting us all together for a common cause; to create everlasting peace amongst the people of Panem."

The applause the crowd gave next made the stage vibrate and it took a long few minutes for the noise to die down enough for Caesar to talk and close the interview.

"Well then Carrie we wish you luck and of course, may the odds be ever in your favour. We shall meet again soon I am sure." He stood and brought Carrie to her feet, kissing her hand with his bright red lips and smiling at her avidly. She gave a small curtsy to him and the audience, the lights faded and the camera's shut off. Caesar tried to coax her into more conversation but President Snow stepped up to them and touched Carrie's waist lightly in an almost possessive manner.

"Another wonderful show Mr Flickerman, but I must insist on escorting Miss Smith away now, there is much to plan and be done." He insisted.

"Of course, of course. I thank you for your presence here, such an exciting afternoon has never before been seen I am sure."

President Snow smiled politely and led Carrie away.

"You did very well tonight, you should be proud to represent your country and era in the Hunger Games." He said calmly. Carrie worked to steady her breathing.

"Th…Thankyou sir." She stammered. He drew them to a halt, in the middle of one of the deserted corridors, and faced her.

"Do not be afraid of me, I wish you no harm so long as you remain honest and obedient." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and offered a rose from inside his jacket. "Have a good day Miss Smith." He bowed his head once and strode off away from her. At that moment Seneca, well timed as ever, rounded the corner to find her leaning heavily against the wall shaking in fear and clutching a pink rose.

"You did wonderfully, well done." He whispered, holding her close to him until he felt her stop shaking. "Come on, let's get back. Mutt will have to leave you tonight and I'm sure you'll want to say goodbye."

"Does he have to leave?" she whispered back, refusing to let go of his hand.

"Just for a little while. You'll see him again soon, I promise." Seneca led the way out of the studios and into a car waiting to take them back to the tribute centre. The media was going crazy with reporters trying to catch a glimpse of Carrie though Seneca managed to get them in the building without being seen, and up to her quarters where she collapsed in a tired heap on the sofa. Glad that it was quiet again and that she had her Mutt to curl up next to. She would miss him as he had been good and reassuring company, but the time had come where she would no longer be allowed to show weakness. If any other tributes saw weakness in her then she would be in even more danger.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N:** Thankyou again for reviews, and Guest: I'd never heard that song before but I went and listened to it and I can see why you asked.

0o0o0o0

Immediately after Finnick returned to Carrie's quarter after her interview, she noticed his frantic appearance and nervous state. She was too comfortable curled up next to her Mutt to bother getting up to go hear what he was muttering about. Cinna, who arrived with him, seemed to be handling it well enough anyway. The two had their heads close together whispering quickly between themselves.

"…_the past Cinna, how in the name of Panem did you and Crane think I didn't need to know that?" Finnick whispered angrily to the stylist. _

"_Just calm down, Finnick. I understand this is a lot for you to take in but the girl needs you to concentrate on keeping her alive, not quizzing her on how she got here. Believe me I have just a many questions about it as you, but now is not____the time for them." Cinna stressed._

"_Why was I not told though? Think of all the times in the training room, what if I had seriously hurt her?" _

"_You were being watched at all times during training so there was no way you would have been allowed to hurt her. You were chosen to be her mentor for a reason Finnick. Of all the Victors you have the best chance of keeping her alive and getting her sponsors, you need to keep concentrating. Put your worries to one side and deal with them after she's out the arena alive. She needs comfort not questions." _

"_Well at least now I know why it's being rigged for her. All makes sense now." He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets moodily. _

"I thought the Capitol was all about manners? You do both know it's rude to whisper right?" Carrie spoke up finally, tired of being excluded from their discussion and alerting the two men on the other side of the room to her presence, interrupting their quiet conversation.

"You're right Carrie, how very rude of us. Would you allow me to make it up to you by saying how incredibly beautiful you were on stage tonight?" Cinna said smoothly, smiling easily and walking over to her. She pretended to think about his answer before replying with a cheeky grin.

"Yes I think I could just about forgive you." Cinna laughed lightly and sat down opposite her on the sofa, reclining and relaxing.

"You know I spent a lot of time on that dress. As pleased as I am that you're comfortable in it, I'd appreciate if you got up off the floor while wearing it." He said pointedly, smiling to let her know she wasn't in any real trouble. She obliged him and gave her Mutt a loving pat on the head before going to sit with Cinna on the sofa. She looked over the back of it to see what Finnick was doing and frowned in confusion when she saw him just standing still, looking dazedly out the window and running a hand through his hair.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked Cinna quietly.

"He didn't know where you were from." He explained, wrapping an arm round her shoulders and resting his head back again. She snuggled closer; gleaning the comfort from him she had had from her pet.

"Why didn't he know? I thought he was just really cool about the whole thing like you were." She felt the rumble of laughter in Cinna's chest before he replied.

"You should have heard how much I quizzed Seneca when you weren't around, that might change your opinion of how I reacted. To answer your question though, Finnick didn't know because we didn't know how much we could trust him to work with us. Also we didn't need him being distracted in the crucial early training stage for you. Even if he is distracted for the next three days, you've still had one to one preparation with him which was essential." He explained. Carrie though over his answer for a while, her frown deepening,

"That's stupid. I don't think it was fair to just let him find out from the interview. He's been really good to me, and you and Seneca seem to get on well with him. Someone should have told him." She said eventually.

"You really didn't know he was kept in the dark?" Cinna asked, tilting his head towards her

"Of course not. It doesn't really get mentioned anymore and I prefer it that way. It's easier to try and forget. I didn't like the interview that much." She answered uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid it's going to be spoken about for quite a while now, and you are going to have to talk about it even more in the upcoming interviews."

"I know…I'm just not looking forward to it." She murmured, closing her eyes and finishing the conversation. All three men had gotten used to Carrie's need for physical comfort. Although she got noticeably more 'cuddly' if she was feeling insecure or worried, Carrie didn't try to get or seem to want anything romantic from any of them. Though Cinna still suspected if she did need more it would be from Seneca, he was the one she was less openly physical with. Cinna had noticed her blushing a number of times if the two brushed against each other accidentally; it was rather sweet how innocent she seemed at times. Yet Seneca was the only one who she would sleep next to. She never asked Cinna or Finnick to share her bed.

0o0o0

"But I don't want him to go Seneca…I might ever see him again." Carrie sniffed, burying her head into the fur of her Mutt.

"Carrie let go of him, I need to get him out of here before anyone else sees him." Seneca sighed, holding the bridge of his nose as he always did when trying not to lose his temper. He had received a call from Plutarch informing him that he had only an hour before the first tributes arrived. He had to take Mutt away quickly so that none of the other tributes or mentors knew about the seemingly tame animal if his plan was going to work.

"I'll miss you Mutt. You be good and I…I'll see you again soon I hope." She cuddled the beast closer and covered his forehead in kisses. Finnick was the only one of their small group to understand her reluctance in letting go of the animal. It had been a constant and she had formed a bond with the animal, now Seneca was taking away her one firm source of comfort and she didn't know if she'd see her Mutt again. He compared it to when tributes had to say goodbye to their families after being reaped.

"Carrie, really you'll see him soon. I have to go, come _on_." Seneca said exasperatedly, finally tugging the girl's arm to relinquish her hold on her pet. She sniffled and wiped away her tears; snatching her arm from him and wrapping them round herself.

"Take good care of him please." She whispered, watching as the Head Game Maker led the engineered animal away.

"You'll see it again soon." Finnick murmured, walking over and pulling the girl to his body in an attempt to calm her down. He understood what Cinna meant about her needing comfort instead of questions right now. He thought about his tributes in previous years and recalled what they could be like. He was brought back to reality when he remembered that his districts tributes would be arriving the following day. He had seen them being reaped on television and even without the Games being rigged for Carrie they wouldn't stand much of a chance. They both looked weak and appeared to have given up by the time they were on stage, unusual for his district where tributes were sometimes be called Careers.

"_Him_, not _'It'_." She corrected quietly, loosening her grip on him and pulling away. She took a few breaths until she was sure she was in control of her emotions again and gave him a watery smile.

"I'm going to have to leave tonight. As Seneca mentioned earlier the first tributes will be here in about an hour. My others will be here at some point tomorrow morning and I'll need to meet them when they arrive so I'll be sleeping on floor 4 tonight ok? Go get out of your interview clothes and have an early night. Seneca won't be back until tomorrow but Cinna is here if you need anything, I'll visit tomorrow evening after dinner. Don't forget to eat and don't leave this floor. If any other Victors or tributes come to find you don't talk to them and go straight to Cinna." He instructed seriously.

"Finnick, how come you didn't have to be at the reaping and train journey like the other mentors? Won't people think it's suspicious that you weren't there this year?" Carrie asked suddenly, it dawning on her that she was keeping him away from his other tributes.

"No, it's usually this way for me. I'm in the Capitol so much that my district knows our tributes will meet me here. Now go shower and get something to eat." He gave her a friendly kiss on the top of her head and gently nudged her in the right direction. He turned to Cinna who was once again quietly sketching on the sofa.

"Look after her, make sure she doesn't dwell on things. Keep her busy and if you need to, slip something in her drink to help her sleep." He advised. The stylist nodded, taking the younger mans council on board.

"See you tomorrow Finnick." He replied, watching as the Victor left for District 4's floor. He couldn't remember when they had started calling the man by his first name, or he calling them by theirs, but the Victor was firmly part of their group now, despite the fact that it the Head Game Maker.

0o0o0

The following evening all the Tributes and their Mentors had arrived in the Capitol and were being prepared for the Opening Ceremony. Cinna had gotten a prep team together for Carrie, much to her disgust. She had been perfectly content letting Cinna prepare her but having three strangers who flapped around her constantly asking ridiculous questions while they worked quickly got on her nerves. She finally had to give in and beg her stylist for something that would help the growing headache. He smiled sympathetically as he handed the pills over and set to work finishing his tribute.

"Right then Carrie, step into your dress here and then I want to drape this flag around you." He helped her step into the stiff midnight blue gown. It was had no shoulders and barely covered her breasts, but did have full-length sleeves that were attached by what looked like strings of diamonds. Next Cinna fixed a delicate tiara to Carrie's hair, which had been curled into loose ringlets.

"I feel like a princess." She murmured with a smile, smoothing the dress down and in doing so noticing the small pale bumps covering it. "What are these Cinna?"

"They're lights. A lot of people in the city are saying that you come from beyond the stars so I've arranged the lights to look like the constellations of the night sky. Look…" He pressed a small button that had been attached under the full-length skirt near the base and Carrie looked down to see she had been lit up with small twinkling lights. She gasped and ran her fingers lightly down her body. While she was distracted Cinna pulled a flag out to settle over her shoulders. He attached it to the dress so that it looked almost like a cape and stepped back.

"I know it's a rather exaggerated costume but they love extravagance; draping you in a flag from another time and country will send them wild and no doubt start a new fashion trend. We'll start seeing your flag everywhere I am sure." He adjusting her hair slightly as he spoke, and just before leading her out to the chariots he pinned her union jack pin to the dress.

Carrie peered around nervously at the other tributes in their outfits; the clothes ranged from beautiful to bizarre, apart from one pair of tributes who wore no clothes at all. They were covered from head to toe in black soot and looked incredibly void of emotion for two kids about to be seen for the whole of Panem naked. Carrie began to notice the stares she was receiving in turn and a fair few number of glares from both tributes and mentors alike. She recognised one friendly face in the sea of strangers though; Finnick who offered an encouraging smile.

"We have about 5 minutes before the parade starts. Are you ready?" Cinna asked quietly, carefully creating a barrier between her and the hostile people with his body.

"Yes. Stand up straight, keep my balance, remember to smile and wave." Carrie answered in a small voice. She edged closer to the horses pulling her chariot and let them sniff her hand before petting them. "Will you be here straight afterwards to meet me?" she asked her stylist, turning away from the horses.

"Of course we will be." Finnick answered, bounding up behind Cinna and crunching something. "You can feed the horses some sugar cubes if you want." He held out a hand piled full of the stuff causing Carrie to laugh and release her pent up worry.

"They should really have carrots or apples instead of sugar cubes Finnick. You enjoy them on the horses' behalf." She grinned, stepping up and giving the man a quick hug. A bell chimed, indicating that the tributes were to mount the chariots, Cinna helped Carrie up and arranged her outfit one last time to make sure everything was laying right.

"Good luck." He said, watching as her horses began to pull her out onto the stage once District 12 had gone. The noise of the crowd was much louder than had been in the preparation area. Carrie supposed almost the whole city had gathered to cheer for the tributes and begin seeing whom they would be betting on to come out Victor. She smiled and stood tall, rested one hand on the chariot for balance and waved to each side of the crowd. She could just about make out the commentary booming around through speakers above the cheers of the city folk.

"…was some discussion as to where her chariot would be placed: in front or behind the districts. As we can see the matter was settled and she brings up the rear. What an outfit! She is proudly showing off what appears to be her country flag and is standing tall; offering herself to us as tribute. This shall certainly a year to remember!"

The chariots drew to a halt at the end of the platform and Carrie turned her attention to President Snow who was about to make his welcoming speech on the balcony.

0o0o0

Carrie laughed giddily when her chariot drew to a halt in front of her stylist and accepted Cinna's hand to help her down. The glares of the others in the room subdued her somewhat though and she stopped laughing.

"That was amazing, I was so terrified before but it was easier than I expected." She grinned at her smiling friend, bending down to turn the lights on her dress off.

"Well that's good then. If the parade was easy I'm sure the Arena will be a walk-though for you." Sneered a tall boy in a sparkling outfit. Carrie turned round to see him and another girl behind her, their mentors stood a few feet away looking at her disdainfully. Carrie straightened her shoulders and stood her ground, glaring back. She had no come-back but she knew if she cowered and hid behind Cinna, like she desperately wanted to, then they'd see her as even easier meat than they probably already did. She noticed Finnick with the District 4 group nod his head to Cinna discreetly and the stylist rested a hand on Carrie's shoulder to gain her attention.

"We should be getting back to the tribute centre." He said, she nodded and turned her back to the other tributes in what she hoped was a dismissive manner.

Once Carrie and Cinna were safely out of the way Finnick walked over to the District 1 group and motioned the two mentors to the side.

"Meet me on the floor below yours at 11pm. Make sure your tributes don't know you're coming." He instructed softly.

"What's this about Fin?" Cashmere asked quietly, sweeping her hair behind her ear. "You were with that girl before they went out on the chariots, what's that about?"

"I'll tell you later. Some of the other mentors will be there too; I got the message to them during the parade. Don't talk to anyone about it though."

"The floor below ours is Security, are we even allowed there?" Gloss butted in.

"It's been transformed into Carrie's quarters. I'm not sure where they put Security. Maybe they're in another building now. Just meet me later and I'll explain everything I know." He walked back to his District tributes, two scrawny kids in mermaid/merman costumes. It was worst that they were twins; their parents were going to lose two children in one year.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N:** Little bit of OOC here, I've read a few other fanfic stories with the Victors/Mentors in so I have those personalities pinned in my head.

0o0o0o0

"Seneca!" Carrie bounded to the door when she saw the man arrive just in time for dinner. He caught her easily and the two hugged for a moment before walking to the dinner table where Cinna sat, smiling knowingly.

"You were brilliant at the parade Carrie. Well done on the outfit Cinna; the president particularly liked it. He said he'd be visiting later. Make sure Carrie wears one of the nice nightdresses and perhaps a little makeup."

"Why is he visiting?" Carrie asked.

"Finnick is gathering some of the other mentors here later. President Snow found out of course and would like to meet with them and ensure they fully understand what is going on." Seneca replied grimly as he served some food onto his own plate. "I'll need to get out of here before they all arrive since I'm not exactly popular amongst most of them. I just wanted to see how you're doing Carrie."

She smiled widely at him. "I'm alright, I feel like I should be panicking but I feel oddly calm about everything. I've had as much training as I can get, and I'll use the next three days to find out what the other tributes are like and what their strengths are."

"Good girl, that's great. I'll see if Jodette can pop by and help you prepare for the interview when the time comes. She should be happy to see you again."

"I haven't really seen anyone but you from the Society for a while actually. It'd be good to see her again." Carrie mused. Her opinion of the people who'd once annoyed her had shifted somewhat; she found she actually missed the irritatingly bubbly personalities some of them had.

The trio ate their meal discussing small things about the Capitol and what was going on in the city streets. A lot of parties were being hosted to celebrate the Games and betting had already started. Though more bets would be placed in the following days when the tribute scores were announced, a few gamblers liked to start early. Betting varied; scores a tribute might get, how long they would survive in the arena, and which one would come out Victor.

Once they had finished the meal Seneca pulled Carrie into another hug and gave a nod to Cinna, "I'd better be going. You'll need to get ready for President Snow's visit. Be prepared for the Mentors to want to see you Carrie. You'll see me tomorrow in training but just ignore me for the time being. We can't let the other tributes know we're friendly." He bid them both good night and left, leaving Carrie feeling strangely upset to be without him again. The coming and going, though she knew it necessary, left her feeling confused.

"You go get a shower Carrie, I'll meet you in your room afterwards with a nice hot chocolate." Cinna gave her a smile and left to gather his equipment. Since the president would be visiting Cinna took Seneca's advice to put her into a nightdress and apply a little light makeup. He knew Seneca suggested it because the president likely asked for it personally; his tastes were well hidden from most of society but the Victors all knew, and a few select others. Seneca had informed Cinna about Snow's tastes for girls barely of age. It was sickening but was possibly one of the few things keeping Carrie alive. Cinna fervently hoped the president wouldn't be one of Carrie's 'clients' if she ended up being sold by him.

"You go get a shower Carrie, I'll meet you in your room afterwards with a nice hot chocolate." Cinna gave her a smile and left to gather his equipment. Since the president would be visiting Cinna took Seneca's advice to put her into a nightdress and apply a little light makeup. He knew Seneca suggested it because the president likely asked for it personally; his tastes were well hidden from most of society but the Victors all knew, and a few select others. Seneca had informed Cinna about Snow's tastes for girls barely of age. It was sickening but was possibly one of the few things keeping Carrie alive. Cinna fervently hoped the president wouldn't be one of Carrie's 'clients' if she ended up being sold by him

Carrie exited the shower and, wrapped in a fluffy towel, met Cinna in her bedroom silently holding out a nightgown from her wardrobe for her to dress in. She didn't question the choice trusting he knew what he was doing. Usually she dressed in a long t-shirt but recalled Seneca advising her to dress up nicely for the president.

"I'm only going to put on a little makeup tonight. I want to keep you fresh faced and natural." Cinna explained quietly as he began powering her face.

"Why do I always need to be made up like this Cinna just to meet people?"

Cinna paused, trying to find an answer for her. "Sometimes it's best not to question things too much Carrie. Just trust in me and Seneca."

"And Finnick?" She asked quietly. She saw him smile slightly and nod.

"Yes, and Finnick. You have a growing number of friends Carrie. Hopefully you'll have some more after tonight too."

"Will they be angry at me because I've got to live and their tributes have to die?"

Another pause. "They might be. Try not to worry too much Carrie. If you like you can stay in here and have a small nap. I'll come and get you if they want to see you."

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried. I feel nervous again." She laughed weakly, holding out her hand as he began removing her nail polish from earlier in the day.

"Have your hot chocolate, it'll help you relax and perhaps you'll get a small amount of sleep. You'll need all you can get in the next few days." Once Cinna was finished he passed the mug he'd brought in and watched her drink it all down.

She gave a yawn and stretched sleepily. "I think I will have a lie down. Wake me up if I'm needed."

"Of course." He pulled the covers over her and watched the girls' eyes droop closed. He almost felt guilty for spiking her drink. Almost.

0o0o0

"Is she sleeping?" Finnick asked when Cinna walked back into the living area. The stylist nodded wearily and crossed the room to meet the man.

"Yes, I added the powder as you suggested earlier. Do we really have to drug her like this?"

"Just for now. It'll be easier on her; you saw how she was losing it in the first few days. She'd be cracked before even going into the arena if we hadn't intervened." Finnick said sadly. "We're going to have to wean it down a bit though so it doesn't come as a shock to her in the arena, and I was thinking about giving her a shot of adrenalin just before going in to give her some help getting away from the Bloodbath. I'm hoping the other mentors will warn their tributes away from her."

"Did you know the president is visiting tonight too?"

Finnick cursed under his breath "Why is he coming over?" he asked.

"He wants to make sure the mentors understand apparently. Are they all going to be here?"

"No just the ones I can trust. Haymitch, Cashmere, Gloss, Johanna, Brutus and Beetee. I'm not too sure how the others would react. I haven't got all the district mentors but having 1 and 2 know will be useful if they can keep the careers away. Beetee is good with electrical stuff, maybe he can convince his tributes not to trap her. Jo's good to warn hers not to hit Carrie with an axe. You know how proficient the lumber lot are with axes. And Haymitch may be a drunk but it's fairer to let him know what to expect. He doesn't like being kept out of the loop and we can trust him to keep quiet." Finnick ticked the possibilities off on his fingers before rubbing his face tiredly. He rose and unsteadily poured a drink for from a table to the side of the room. "Want one?" He called to Cinna who declined.

"Do you know how you're going to tell them?"

"Not a bloody clue. I've been friends with this lot for years. They helped me adjust to Victor life and now I have to tell them one of my tributes _will_ live while theirs must all die. It feels like I'm rubbing it in their faces." Finnick took a large gulp of his drink and paced the room anxiously.

"I'm sure they'll understand…" Cinna said somewhat unconvincingly to which Finnick snorted. Just then they heard the first knock at the door. Carrie's floor of the Tribute centre differed from the others in that her elevator didn't come out in the middle of the quarters, it was at the end of the hallway running down the side of the building. Finnick drew a deep breath and went to open the door, finding Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus standing there with a mixture of curious and impatient expressions.

"I hope you have good reason for this Fin; it's not just the tributes who need their sleep." Cashmere huffed. Her brother rolled his eyes and went into the room, whistling appreciatively.

"They properly converted a whole floor for the girl. That's pretty impressive considering she only volunteered Reaping day." The man walked over and started to help himself to the bar drinks, mixing cocktails for himself and his sister. Finnick cleared his throat uncomfortably and motioned for them all to sit down once Brutus declined the offer of a drink.

"You're wound awfully tight Fin, who they got you screwing now?" Cashmere asked, her now gentle tone contradicting her harsh words. The district 4 Mentor winced.

"Nobody at the moment Cash, I'm allowed an extended break in light of the extra tribute." His friends' eyes narrowed.

"What is it you wanted to tell us about in regards to her?" Brutus asked, glancing at Cinna who was sitting quietly to the side.

"That's Cinna, her stylist. Decent bloke, don't give him a hard time. And I'll tell you more about Carrie when the others get here."

The time spent waiting for the other three mentors to arrive was in a strained silence. None of the Victors were willing to talk to Cinna yet, and Finnick didn't know what to say. Finally when they heard the unceremonious banging on the door that could only be caused by Haymitch, Finnick moved from his rigid sitting position. He let Haymitch, being supported by Johanna, into the room and poured the man a drink and grabbed a bottle of Johanna's favourite for her. Not long after Beetee joined the group.

"Right…ah…as you all know I'm here to tell you about the new tribute Carrie…" Finnick started, wringing his hands in an unusual show of nervousness. He had always felt more able to show his true emotions in front of these people.

"Cut the crap boy, what's got you so worked up?" Haymitch grumbled, swigging from his glass as he slouched precariously on one of the chairs. Finnick closed his eyes and took a breath.

"She has to win…by order of the president." He said shakily. Preparing himself for the worst reactions. He was met with a stunned silence until Haymitch burst out laughing.

"Figured." He spat out. "Is she really from another time?" the drunkard asked.

"Like hell she is. It's just a promo to boost the ratings." Cashmere scoffed, looking to Finnick for confirmation. The man shook his head.

"It's true. The president will be here later if you doubt me. You know he doesn't lie to us."

"No he just kills our families if we disagree with anything he say." Johanna spat angrily. "You might've said he was coming so we could've opted out."

"It's safer for you to know. Try and keep your tributes away from her. If anyone else wins then there will be consequences." Finnick said gravely.

"Is that meant to be a threat?" Brutus asked seriously, flexing his hand.

"No it's the truth. What do you think will happen to the mentors _and_ Victor if anyone but Carrie comes out – the girl Snow _wants_ to come out. We knew she was going in long before the Reaping. This whole thing is dangerous and I want to keep you guys as safe as I can." Finnick said, trying to get them to understand. Cashmere glared openly at him whilst the men frowned in general, thinking over what they had just been told.

"I'm betting you were allowed to pass your test early then to be the girls' stylist? You wanted 12 when we spoke last year." Haymitch said, looking over at Cinna. The dark skinned man nodded.

"Yes. I was called in to be her stylist for a number of occasions soon after she arrived and allowed to stay in Panem. The president liked my work enough to allow me to be her full time stylist." He explained.

"Do we get to meet the girl?" Beetee asked quietly. Finnick nodded and Cinna went to wake Carrie and bring her to meet them.

0o0o0

"Time to wake up Carrie" Cinna shook her lightly and offered her a glass of water. She gratefully took a sip and pulled on the silk dressing gown Cinna had offered.

"Are they here yet?" She asked sleepily.

"Yes Sweetie, they want to meet you. The President isn't here yet though." He grasped her hand and led her out to the living room. She startled at the stares she was getting and wrapped the gown tighter around her before sitting beside Finnick while Cinna went to sit in his previous seat away from the group.

"This is Carrie Smith." Finnick began the introductions of everyone to Carrie and she nodded or murmured a hello to each of them, receiving only hard stares in response. Each was weighing her up until Haymitch voiced the opinion they were all think.

"She doesn't look like much." He grumbled, scanning his eyes over her. It was his tone of voice that angered Carrie; he spoke like she was dirt on his shoe.

"And what would you know? You're drunk" She retorted angrily.

"I've been sending kids to their death long before you were even born kid, and I'd like to know what makes you so damn special that you deserve to live more than any of the others." Haymitch growled, sitting up and leaning towards her.

A small cough alerted them to another presence in the room. They all looked up and while all the mentors' faces fell carefully blank, Carrie shuffled nervously at the sight of Snow.

"She is special to me Mr Abernathy and cannot be replaced. I would also like to point out that is we took into account her birth year as opposed to her physical age, she is actually older than all of us." Snow chuckled at his own joke and Carrie blushed a faint red. She rose to greet the older man when he put out his hands for her to take and gave a small curtsy.

"Pleasure to see you Mr President." She glanced up, confused by the look in his eyes as he bent to kiss her hand.

"Always a _pleasure_ to see you Miss Smith. You are looking delightful as ever." He withdrew a rose from inside his jacket and offered it to the young girl who took it obediently and sniffed the sweet scented flower.

"Thankyou sir." She said meekly, actually grateful that it covered the scent of blood that always emanated from him.

"I know how fond you are of my roses Miss Smith. It is a joy to share them with you, I look forward to showing you the late summer blooms after the Hunger Games." He smiled amicably and glanced at the mentors, who had most certainly heard him. "I trust you are all well?" He walked further into the room, guiding Carrie with a hand on her back and leaving it there once they stood in front of the group. They murmured their answers and none of them missed the pale shade Carrie had gone. "Are there any questions about the upcoming Games? Anything anyone is curious about or needs clearing up?" He smiled dangerously at them, silently daring them to speak, which of course they didn't. "Good…." He said softly, drawing out the word. He turned to Carrie and took both her hands in his. "I see you are losing that charming accent you once had Miss Smith…"

"As a child I visited a few other countries. If I was there for a long time I would always pick up that accent." Carrie explained timidly. Snow looked at her levelly.

"It would be a shame to lose such a unique trait. Regain it Miss Smith, the people of Panem do so love the sound of your voice." He waited until she nodded and promised before continuing with a smile. "Good luck in the arena, you are doing your era a great pride. I am confidant the next time we meet I shall be crowning you Victor." He kissed her hand once more, never breaking eye contact and if he felt her shaking he never let on. With one last predatory smile to the group he left with the peacekeepers he had entered with.

Carrie stood stock still, the rose clutched tightly in her white hands as she stared ahead unseeing. The look in the president's eyes had momentarily disabled her; their depths held nothing but darkness and a promise of pain, closer to the surface she finally identified the desire lurking there. She vaguely heard a noise in the distance and slowly turned to see the group watching her, realising that Finnick had been calling her name.

"Are you alright pet?" Gloss asked, concerned. Carrie shook her head and cleared her throat.

"It was lovely to meet you all. If you don't mind I'm still feeling a little tired. I would like to retire if that is alright?" she said unsteadily, though Finnick was proud that she still held her head high.

"Of course, let me help you get that make-up off." Cinna stood and led the way to her bedroom where he carefully wiped away any trace of powder from her face and helped her into bed while she silently let him.

"Goodnight Carrie." He whispered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "If you have trouble sleeping come and get me, I have some pills that might help." She nodded gratefully and turned her back to him, looking at the rose resting on her bedside table

0o0o0

"Well she held up well." Haymitch commented dryly once Cinna and Carrie had left the room. "I know people who still retch at the smell of his blood." He slyly glanced over at Johanna who scowled back.

"We've been keeping her dosed up on a low sedative to help keep her calm." Finnick said uncomfortably.

"Well that's going to screw her over in the Arena when she can't get any. Does she know you're drugging her?" Cashmere asked.

"No she doesn't know. I'll be weaning her down over the next three days so withdrawal shouldn't affect her in the arena. Seneca knows though, and he thinks the president has his eyes on her."

"You're actually on a first name basis with crane?" Brutus exclaimed incredulously.

"He's the one who pretty much looked after Carrie, along with Cinna, before I got involved. We've had the last couple of weeks to sort out any spats between each other. He's not such a bad bloke, I think he has a bit of a thing for Carrie and it's changed a few of his views slightly."

"He's still butchering kids for a living though isn't he. Meanwhile you ask us here to help keep some runt, who already needs sedatives to exist, alive for you. If she can't cope before going in how do you think she'll last in there? Even if she does survive you're practically setting her up to be a morphling addict." Haymitch shouted angrily.

"If it wasn't Seneca it would be someone else anyway. Look I brought you all here, not only to ask for your help getting Carrie out alive, but also to give you a fair warning. We all know how difficult it is watching our kids die but I thought you'd rather know it was being rigged beforehand than find out the hard way. If you got to know her you wouldn't think she was so bad; Carrie's a decent kid and you know full well what Snow's likely to do to her if she wins, she doesn't deserve to be ostracized just because of this." Finnick seethed, ignoring the morphling addict comment. Haymitch cursed loudly and swigged back another drink. He fell silent, thinking.

"Will she really have to go into that line of work?" Beetee asked quietly. Though the president had never sold him, he was a close friend with those who had been so he knew about what went on. Occasionally Finnick had to have a body polish to get rid of scars left by his 'lovers'

"It's not solid but I'd put money on it. I'm hoping that perhaps because the president is interested in her he won't want to sell her body, maybe only her company to others." Even he thought it sounded unlikely. If anything the president would just save the girl for himself.

"Damnit. Fine we'll help." Cashmere agreed, speaking for herself and Gloss. "We'll try to keep our tributes away from her. If she lives long enough to be Victor we won't hold a grudge"

"I'll do what I can to keep mine away. Enobaria might not be too keen though." Brutus said

"I don't think mine will be a threat to her. Perhaps she can make an alliance with Cable though, he's good at running and might be able to help her if they make it away from the cornucopia." Beetee suggested.

"It's definitely a possibility. We can see how they get on. I'll put it to Carrie in the morning." Finnick said. He looked to Johanna next. She pulled a face.

"Don't expect me to get all pally with her. The most I'll do is try warning my tributes away but that's it. If they go after her it's her problem." Johanna said clearly.

"Frankly that's more than I was hoping for from you Jo." Finnick said with a lopsided grin. "What about you Hay? I know you're not happy, but I'd appreciate if we were on the same side for this." Finnick said softly.

"You know I'll always have your back Boy." Haymitch stated gruffly. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and let out a big sigh. "I want to talk to Crane and get all the details of how she got here. Arrange a meeting somewhere safe and let me know. Afterwards I'll see what I can do for you to help sort this mess out."

"Here is safe. Come by tomorrow night, I'll make sure he's here."

Haymitch eyed Finnick with uncertainty, he glance around the place as if looking for something. He looked at Beetee with a silent question and the other man nodded in agreement. He'd get a Jammer to Haymitch. It was a small device to stop any eavesdropping from the Capitol. They didn't use them often so as not to raise suspicion, but for rare and necessary occasions Beetee kept them handy. Although Finnick said this floor was safe he wasn't willing to take chances.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N:**

0o0o0o0

"Right then Carrie, I need to go now and talk to my own tributes this morning. Will you be alright to get to the training room by yourself?" Finnick asked early the following morning. It was before breakfast and they were all up early; Carrie couldn't sleep, Finnick had to get back to his own floor, and Cinna had been woken by them both moving around.

"I'll be fine Finnick. You get back to the others, I don't want you getting in trouble." Carrie said softly smiling and watching him go.

"I'll see you tonight. Seneca and Haymitch will be round too at some point." He added over his shoulder, walking from the quarters to his district floor.

Cinna heard Carrie let out a sigh and begin to serve herself an early breakfast from the buffet table at the side of the room. Finnick had put less sedative in her drink when he woke her up so she was no doubt beginning to feel more anxious about the upcoming events.

"You alright?" He called from across the room. He was sitting in front of a mannequin that was currently modelling Carrie's interview dress. There was still work to do on it.

"Yeah. Just starting to feel nervous about meeting the other tributes properly." She shrugged. "They didn't seem that nice last night at the parade." She frowned.

"It's better that way Carrie. You can't afford to make friends with any of them." He warned, pinning the hem of the dress up.

"I know. It just feels so weird that we're going to be trying to …well…kill each other in a few days." She admitted uncomfortably. It was the first time she had voiced what would inevitably happen in the arena. "I'm going to go get ready for training." She muttered, traipsing from the room. Cinna watched her go, shaking his head sadly before turning back to the dress.

0o0o0

Once dressed Carrie reluctantly made her way to the elevator and hit the button for the training room, wondering what her opponents would be like. She was relieved when nobody else got in with her, though it was unsurprising considering she was early. In the room however she was not the only tribute there. She recognised the district one tributes that had tried to start an argument the previous evening and made a mental note to avoid them, standing instead with a boy about her age with dark hair and a younger girl with red hair who was shuffling her feet nervously.

"Hi, I'm Carrie." She started with a friendly smile. The girl stepped away skittishly and the boy looked at her suspiciously.

"Are you really a time traveller from the past?" he asked unexpectedly. Carrie blushed a faint red and reluctantly nodded.

"I wouldn't call it that since I didn't control it, but I am from the past."

The boy looked her over before answering, as if deciding something "I'm Cable. District three." He pointed to the number patched onto his sleeve. "That's Felicity." He bobbed his head to the young girl standing a few feet away from them. Carrie gave a small wave and quick smile.

"How'd you get here if you didn't control it then?" Cable asked. Carrie shrugged.

"Didn't you see the interview on tv? It was like some sort of lightening."

"I thought it might've been scripted. A few of the tributes think it's all a lie to boost ratings and make more money."

"There are better ways to do that than this." Carrie snorted. "What makes you believe me then?"

"Beetee said it was true." Cable shrugged. "He's my mentor. Felicity has Wiress. I think I'm the lucky one really." He grinned.

"How so?"

"Wiress is brilliant, but she doesn't always finish what she's saying and Beetee has to finish them. I suppose we're being mentored by both, but traditionally the man mentors the boy and the woman mentors the girl."

"That makes sense. Though district 12 only has one mentor right? How does that work?"

"Not well, though probably more because their mentor is a drunk. Who's mentoring you?"

"I got given Finnick O'dair. He's district 4."

"That's cool. Though they tend to be with the careers. Are you planning on joining them?"

"Hardly. They'd slit my throat first chance. Not something I'd look for in an alliance." She grinned, making Cable laugh.

"Yeah true." They both turned their attention to Atala when she cleared her throat to talk through the rules and what each station was now that all the tributes had arrived.

"You want to stick together? I'm going to try out the spears." Cable suggested once they were told to disband and try different stations.

"I'm going to go see the edible plants. Good luck with the weapons." Carrie replied. As she walked she noticed Seneca watching with a group of other game makers and smiled to herself, glad he was there. Once at her chosen station she forced her attention to the others and surreptitiously looked around at the 24 other tributes. They looked to be mostly her age though there were a few smaller tributes that looked around 13. She recognised the district 4 twins, who sat tying knots together. It looked like they were going to stick together, though Carrie wondered if they would attack each other if it came to it in the arena. She thought of her brother and knew that she would never have been able to attack him, just as he would never hurt her. Her hearts went out to the twins and their parents.

"Never thought I'd get to kill a time traveller." Carrie heard the district 1 boy taunted obnoxiously as he sauntered over, three others whom Carrie assumed were his district partner and district 2 tributes followed.

"Getting ahead of yourself a bit there aren't you? Who's to say you even live long enough to come up against me?" Carrie said rolling her eyes.

"Haven't you heard? It's nearly always one of our districts that win. By the end of the bloodbath you'll be butchered I bet. You should be grateful your family doesn't get to watch you die." He sneered.

"I've heard all about the alliances you lot always create. Too afraid to go into it without holding hands are you?" Carrie asked coolly. "I'm sure if you ask nicely a sponsor will send you a teddy bear to cuddle."

"Leave her Blaze, she'll be dead soon enough she's not worth our time." His district partner giggled irritatingly. Carrie couldn't help but roll her eyes again.

"Come on, I want to play with the spears." The other boy said grinning. Carrie watched them go and started studying the edible plants again. An instructor came over and started to go over the differences between different plants with her, which Carrie was relieved about; during her private training the only instructor was Atala who taught her combat so she'd had to study plants and knots from flash cards and trial-and-error. The instructor was able to give her helpful hints and point out things she'd missed. She spent the rest of the morning there until she was sure she wasn't going to forget or mix up what was edible and poisonous and when lunch was announced she thanked the instructor and walked towards the room where they would be eating. She glanced up to see Seneca in conversation with the other game makers, wishing she were able to talk to him again. With a sigh she mentally shook herself and entered the already crowded room and served herself some food, though halted when she couldn't find a free table to sit at. All of a sudden she heard her name being called and spotted Cable waving her over. With a slow grin she went and sat at the table he, Felicity and two others were eating at.

"I saw the Careers talking to you earlier, what did they have to say?" Cable asked

"Oh y'know, wishing me luck in the arena and such." Carrie replied wryly.

"You speak funny." One girl blurted out before realising she sounded rude and covered her mouth with her hands. "Sorry." She muttered, bright red. Carrie just laughed though.

"It's alright. It's my British accent. I know I sound different to you guys, I'm just not from around here."

"Not kidding." Cable snorted with a grin that Carrie easily matched. "That's Maddy…" he nodded to the girl who had commented on the accent "…and that's Felix, her district partner."

"What district are you two from?"

"11. Livestock." Maddy replied proudly.

"That's cool. What sort of animals do you look after?"

"All sorts; cattle, sheep, goats…mostly cattle though. We get a large group together and do a round up a couple of times a year on horseback." She replied happily. "It's really fun, we have a big bonfire at night for warmth and tell stories."

"Wow, it sounds so fun." Carrie replied, awed.

"Yeah. I'm gonna miss it…" The mood of the table subdued somewhat. Cable cleared his throat uncomfortably,

"So what was it like in your home Carrie?"

"It was good…pretty different from here though obviously. I lived with my parents and brother and used to like walking in the woods near my house."

"Didn't you worry about wild animals attacking you?" Felicity piped up with wide eyes.

"We didn't have savage wild animals in England really. Not like here anyway. The most we really had to watch out for was wild boar when they have their babies nearby because they can get pretty protective of them."

"And you were allowed to just walk about freely? Didn't you have a fence to keep you in your district?" Felix asked.

"We didn't have districts. We had villages, towns, cities and counties but we could go to each as we pleased. If we left the country then you had to have a passport saying you were allowed to but they were easy enough to get hold of."

"But how did you know who did what? Wasn't is chaos trying to get all the right things to your Capitol?"

Carrie shrugged, realizing just how difficult it was to explain how free she used to be. "It just worked out really. I don't know how to describe it. When someone became an adult they had to look for work to earn money, it was getting really difficult to find jobs in my time but people managed. Each person paid a certain amount to the government."

"What if people couldn't find a job? Did they just starve on the streets?" Cable asked quietly with interest, but before Carrie had a chance to speak she felt a tap on her shoulder and saw a peacekeeper standing behind her frowning.

"Come with me Miss Smith." He commanded. She gulped and glanced at her tablemates before following obediently, wondering if she was in trouble. He led her out of a side door, ignoring the catcalls from the Careers. She walked into a hallway and was relieved to see Seneca until she noticed his stern expression.

"What's wrong Seneca?" she asked quietly, shrinking before him.

"Carrie, we have surveillance in the cafeteria and can hear everything tributes talk about. Now I know you obviously didn't realise but you can't reveal too much about the past to anyone. Don't answer too many questions alright?"

"But what was wrong with what we were talking about?" she asked, confused. He let out a sigh, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"If you give the districts any idea that there is a way things can be done differently then it would be disastrous. Worst-case scenario – it would start another uprising. And we do not want a repeat of the Dark Days. I know things were done differently in your era but…well that's the past…literally. And you would do well to forget about it." He watched Carrie frown and digest his words. Eventually she nodded and looked back up at him.

"Sorry, I didn't realise. Am I in big trouble?"

"No, no harm done this time, just don't let it happen again. Promise me?"

"I promise. Sorry."

"Don't fret about it. And don't let the Careers get to you…try to just ignore them. Go back into the training room; lunch will be over by now." He squeezed her shoulder quickly and walked away.

As soon as she re-entered the training room Cable and Maddy walked over and eyed her anxiously.

"Are you ok? What was the matter?"

"It's alright you guys. Don't worry about it." She deflected. She walked away over to the knot tying section, unaware that she had a shadow until Cable spoke quietly again.

"It was because you were telling us about your past right?" He asked quietly, picking up a long strand of rope. Carrie nodded. "Sorry if we got you in trouble. I should have guessed, they try not to teach us too much in school." He smiled bitterly.

"Shh. Don't get into trouble over nothing Cable, lets just forget about it." Carrie whispered anxiously.

"What can they do about it? We're already going into the arena, how can the punish us more?"

"I don't know but I don't want to find out." They settled into a companionable silence after than and listened as the station instructor taught them how to make different snares, traps, and knots.

"What can a knot do? I can understand the snares coming in handy but this is useless." Cable said exasperatedly after the fourth knot, holding it up and swinging it from side to side.

"If you get a heavy enough piece of rope and knot it loads I suppose you could hit someone with it…" Carrie suggested half-heartedly. "I used to see decorative knots that were pretty heavy used on boats."

"Bludgeoned to death by a rope. Well that'd be embarrassing for someone." Cable chuckled

"Hey, don't knock it if it works. Just please try not to get me with it considering I suggested it." Carrie joked.

"So long as you don't do it to me either then deal." Cable offered his hand out for Carrie to shake. They both grinned, despite the topic of conversation, while the instructor looked on bemusedly. It was certainly an idea to suggest to the game makers later.

High up on the platform Seneca stood watching the pair, stroking his beard thoughtfully with a frown. He didn't like how friendly the boy was getting with Carrie; it was asking for trouble.

0o0o0

That night Carrie sat making notes about the other tributes; softly humming under her breath while Cinna continued his work on the interview outfit - He was now busily making her jewellery. Seneca and Finnick sat in deep conversation at the dining table, keeping their voices quiet and private.

"You think she'll want an alliance with the boy?" Finnick asked.

"She might. But she doesn't need any damned alliance; _I'll_ be looking out for her." Frustrated, Seneca pounded the table.

"Are you sure this isn't you being jealous? You know nothing's going to happen between them? Only one can live and all that." Finnick pointed out bluntly causing the other man to scowl.

"I do not get jealous fish-boy. I'm just saying this is a bad idea, if she starts getting friendly feelings for that boy then she'll only be upset when he dies. Or worst; he might end up betraying her and trying to kill her himself when her guard is down."

Finnick shook his head, dismissing the last idea.

"District 3 doesn't tend to be like that. I agree she'll be upset when he dies but can it hurt her having one less tribute after her?"

"It would hinder her having to watch out for someone else. Look, I have plans in place so that she won't need an alliance." Seneca seethed.

"Like what?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Seneca replied cryptically.

"I'm her mentor Crane, you're meant to keep me in the loop." Finnick rolled his eyes.

"I need you to react realistically when the time comes. People will be questioning it enough…"

"Oh please; I am the king of actors." Finnick scoffed. "How do you think I survive in my line of work?" Seneca was saved having to answer though when the telltale thumping on the door alerted them to Haymitch's arrival. Finnick rose to answer and let the man stumble in. Haymitch stood swaying on his feet as he fished something out of his jacket pocket and pushed a button before making his way further into the rooms.

"Where is the butcher then"? He slurred.

"I assume you me Mr Abernathy." Seneca supplied, walking forwards to shake hands. Haymitch snorted and ignored the proffered gesture. "I hear you wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah I want to find out what the hell is going on before I sink knee-deep in this shite. Where's the girl, I'll want to talk to her as well."

"Come and sit down. Would you like some refreshments?" Seneca asked sarcastically, already waving over an Avox holding a pitcher of alcohol.

"Carrie, I believe you and Mr Abernathy met last night" Seneca said, his tone becoming friendlier when he addressed her. She bobbed her head and put her notes down when the men joined her. Even Cinna put his task down to pay attention to the conversation.

"How'd training go girl? Find anyone you want to target first? Perhaps make an alliance with the Careers or some other ridiculous plan that'll end in blood?"

Carrie scowled at Haymitch.

"I have a name. And no, I wouldn't join that bunch of barbarians if you paid me. It doesn't take an idiot to work out they'll try killing me at first opportunity they get."

"That'll be within minutes of being in the arena then. You a good sprinter?"

She shrugged, "Good enough to get out of there I hope."

"Hoping won't save you. Do you _hope_ to get back to your family? Do you _hope_ this is all a bad dream and you'll wake up from it? Well let me tell you; tributes that _hope_ are the first to die. You have to be realistic and brutal to be Victor." His words had stopped being so slurred and Carrie wondered if some of his drunken behaviour was merely an act. "Now then, I want to here from the beginning how you arrived in Panem." He slouched back, taking a long swallow of his drink.

"Didn't you catch it all on the interview?" she asked curiously.

"Prior engagement my dear." He grinned, holding up and tapping his glass.

So Carrie began reciting the story of how she arrived in Panem. From her walk in the woods near her home, to surviving in the wild and not knowing where she was, to being rescued and drugged, to her life in the Society building and being interrogated every day.

"This party Snow held for you, who was there?" He turned to Finnick who shrugged. It was Seneca who answered; ticking off on his fingers some of the more prominent names. Haymitch tapped his chin thoughtfully. "They liked her?"

"They _loved_ her."

"That should be good for sponsors. But I still can't work out how she got here if it wasn't Capitol technology then who's was it…" Haymitch murmured to himself, still tapping his chin.

"Is there anything you can do to help us Hay?" Finnick asked finally. The older mentor looked at Carrie calculatingly.

"Nothing yet. But don't worry, I'm on your side Fin. I'll see what I can do to keep my tributes away from her, they're both Seam kids and don't stand a chance of winning but they have enough spunk to attack anyone in their path. They might even make it out the bloodbath. Your girl is skinny though, compared to the careers at least. She hasn't got much muscle. What's she got going for her?"

"She has me. I'll be doing everything in my power to help her." Seneca said forcefully.

"And is that because Snow told you to or is there some other motive?" Haymitch asked, looking between the head game maker and the girl sitting comfortably next to him. During the conversation of the night they had moved closer together until she was curled up sleepily leaning against Seneca while he absently rubbed circles on her back.

"What does it matter what my reasons are?" Seneca growled.

"Answer the question Crane."

"I would do whatever I could to keep her alive, whether ordered to or not." The man replied tersely. A slow smile spread across Haymitchs' face.

"That's what I like to hear. So you're with her through and through? Whatever keeps her alive and all that?" He pointed between them, eyeing the other man with keen interest.

"Whatever keeps her alive." Seneca confirmed holding the girl closer. Carrie's own smile spread across her face just as she dropped off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N:** I've been suffering from a kind of writers block and so this chapter has been written little and often and I apologise if it seems a little bumpy in places.

0o0o0o0

Day 2 of training went much like the first. Carrie spent some time with Cable and Maddy and the three ate together at lunch again. Finnick had warned Carrie not to display where her talents lay for the other tributes so she stayed away from the obstacle and stealth courses and instead focused on weapons in the morning and hand to hand combat in the afternoon. It was at the end of the training session just before all the tributes left for their own floors when Cable approached her with a proposition.

"Carrie, I uh… I was wondering if you wanted to form an alliance in the arena. I've spoken to Maddy too and she's going to talk to her mentor about it. You don't have to but it's something to consider. You're pretty cool and I think we'd make a good team." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he waited for Carrie to recover from her stunned appearance.

"Uh…gee…thanks Cable, I'll have talk to Finnick and see what he thinks but if he says yes, then yeah I'd like to." Carrie smiled nervously. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Seneca frowning in the background watching them keenly while he pretended to pay attention to what another game maker was saying. "I'd better get going Cable. Thanks for the offer it means a lot. I'll let you know tomorrow." With one last smile Carrie turned and flitted into a free elevator and pushed the button for her floor, exhaling rather forcefully and running a hand through her hair.

She jumped when the capsule stopped and quickly walked down the hall to her quarters, hoping to make it in and to her room before Seneca arrived. The man had looked almost angry downstairs and she couldn't work out why. All she knew was that she didn't want to be alone if he cornered her; she'd rather have Cinna to hide behind. She wasn't sure why she felt guilty since it was _Cable _who had approached _her_ and it wasn't like she could just ignore the boy. It would be useful having an alliance in the arena she mused to herself as she approached her door.

"What's the rush, short stuff?" The sound of Haymitch's sarcastic drawling voice when she barged into her quarters had her spinning round in surprise.

"I'm not short." She huffed, hands on hips. She scowled when he pushed himself off the wall beside door and ruffled her hair as he walked past.

"You're shorter than me." He pointed out, slumping down on the sofa with his drink.

"What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you meant to be with your own tributes?"

"You're top priority now right? Besides, it's not like they stand a chance of winning, even if you weren't a favourite."

Carrie frowned, sitting on a seat across from him and fiddling with her hands in her lap.

"I don't want everyone else to die." She said quietly.

"Tough, it's the way this works." Haymitch retorted sharply. "Get used to it and get over it."

"Cable asked me to be in an alliance with him and Maddy." She admitted, looking up to see his reaction.

"Don't bother. The girl won't make it out the bloodbath and the boy is trouble for you."

"He seems nice though…"

"There can only be one victor girly. Don't go getting soft just because he's _'nice'. _Besides, I don't thing Crane would be too happy about you getting cosy with some boy."

Carrie blushed deep red. "I'm not 'cosy' with Cable. He's not even a friend really." She muttered.

"You got a soft spot for Crane?" Haymitch looked at her from over his glass as he waited for her reply.

"Don't know what you're talking about. Where are Cinna and Finnick?"

"I told them to vanish for a bit. I wanted to talk to you privately." Haymitch shrugged.

"Why? What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Crane mostly. I want to know how you feel about him. It _seems_ pretty obvious but I so want to know if it's just an act." He held his hands up as she tried to protest. "I won't tell on you if it is, don't worry. I can see the point behind it; as Head Game Maker he's a rich man. If it's money you want then as a victor I have plenty I can buy all sorts of pretty things for you until you have your own victor income." Haymitch winked and smirked lecherously. Carrie chucked a pillow at him indignantly, scowling when he easily ducked out of the way. "You can do better than that Capitol prick girly, I'm just giving you options." Haymitch added almost as an afterthought

"I do not want Seneca for his money and I'm offended that you would even suggest that. He's attractive, intelligent, kind, patient, witty and funny. You're not one tenth the man he is." Carrie retorted angrily, glaring at the man opposite her.

"Alright, alright…don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm risking a lot here and want to know it's worth it. I'm not going to put my neck on the line for some girl who's just after fame and money."

"What do my feelings for him have to do with anything?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Nothing for your to worry you're little mind over. Just get out of that arena alive." Haymitch drawled as he rose and started to leave the quarters ignoring the scowling Carrie he left behind

With a frustrated huff she crossed the room to her bedroom and stripped off her sweat-soaked training clothes. Stalking into the bathroom she jabbed the buttons in the shower to get the water hot and with a relieved sigh stood under the cleansing waterfall letting it relax her tense muscles, ease the aches in her body, and refresh her skin. After a short while, she washed thoroughly and rinsed before drying her hair and stepping out. Wrapping her body in a bathrobe she went to the living room to wait for the others to arrive. She was shocked when she saw Seneca there already; arms crossed, standing stiff, frown in place while he looked out the window distractedly. She thought about edging out the room again, but when he didn't turn to face her she decided to stay and find the courage to talk to him; to ask him what was wrong or at least have some sort of conversation.

"I used to believe in God back in my time but now whenever I picture him he's got a look somewhere between amusement and condescension." Carrie blurted out. It wasn't quite what she had planned on saying but it helped bring Seneca's attention away from the window.

"Why do you feel that way?" he asked in his polite voice, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

"Well…how many different futures could I have been sent to instead? This supposedly loving god sends me to the one where I'll have to fight till the death. It sounds like kind of a sick joke to me."

"Do you regret coming here? Do you regret being friends with us…with me?" Seneca asked mildly, his face carefully blank. Carrie scrunched up her nose slightly in thought before answering.

"I don't regret coming here or the friends I have here. It's just a pisser that I have to be a tribute." She shrugged walking over to him. "So you gonna tell me why you're so tense?"

Seneca looked down at her, his eyes scanning over her face. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes.

"At first I was angry about you talking to the district 3 boy, but then I overheard you and Haymitch talking." He admitted.

"I though this floor wasn't bugged?" Carrie asked, confused.

"It's not, but there's nothing to prevent me listening at the door." Seneca smirked, not in the least bit embarrassed to admit he had eavesdropped on an obviously private conversation. He turned serious though at his next statement. "You stuck up for me."

Carrie blushed and ducked her head so that she was no longer holding his gaze. "I couldn't listen to him insult you like that, or insinuate I'm only after someone for their money." She admitted.

"_Are_ you after me?" Seneca asked in a low calm voice, his hand now gently tracing an invisibly pattern on her cheek. He noticed Carrie's breath hitch and his eyes darkened. She spoke so quietly he almost struggled to hear her.

"I like you a lot Seneca." She admitted, finally looking him in the eye again with rosy cheeks. She cleared her throat though and pulled back.

"Why were you angry that Cable talked to me?"

In a flash Seneca's serene expression turned thunderous and his nostrils flared.

"You have no reason to talk to him. Beetee already told me about the alliance the boy wants to create and I think it's foolish if you go along with it. _I_ will protect you in the arena; _I_ am the one who will keep you safe."

"Seneca, I never said I would join it. I was going to talk to Finnick anyway, but if you really don't want m to then I won't. But I'm not going to go after him or Maddy either."

"They will die either way Carrie. Are you so foolish as to think that when the time comes they won't try to kill you? Do you honestly think this friendly liaison will last in the arena? They will be trying to kill you whether you want to believe it or not."

Carrie shrank away from Seneca and bowed her head submissively, staying silent. The quiet stretched until finally she heard Seneca walking away. When she looked around she saw he was simply walking over to greet Cinna and Finnick. If either of the newcomers were confused about what they walked in on they didn't show it.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you all in the morning." She murmured, walking to her room without paying any more attention to the trio.

"Care to explain what that was about?" Finnick asked Seneca, crossing his arms and raising his an eyebrow.

"Not particularly. I'm going back to work. If she talks any more about alliances squash the plans before she even gets started."

0o0o0

The last day of training was the worst day for Carrie; she told Cable she wouldn't be able to join the alliance but wished him luck in the arena. A hollow remark but she felt it worth saying; he and Maddy reciprocated the feeling. Despite what Seneca had said the previous night, Carrie still hoped deep down that the pair wouldn't try to kill her, because she was sure she wasn't going to be able to attack them. She was still unsure if she would be able to attack anyone unprovoked. For what felt like the hundredth time since the whole thing started, she desperately and futilely wished that she were back home with her family. She missed them more each day and the realization that she may never see them again hit her harder now that she wasn't being kept into a forced calm with drugs. The only thing she was grateful for was that _they_ were not in this predatory post-apocalyptic world.

In the special skills show-off she did her best to demonstrate how good she was at sneaking and overcoming physical obstacles. That night she watched on TV as her respectable score of 6 was called out. It wasn't too high so as to give the impression to other tributes that she was a threat, but nor was it so low that they would consider her easy prey. Cinna and Finnick were happy with it and she assumed Seneca was too considering he would have been the one to decide it, though she didn't see the man that night.

"What's going to happen tomorrow?" Carrie asked quietly looking across at Cinna and Finnick.

"Cinna will give you some last minute tips and you can talk over any questions you have for tomorrow nights interview. I'll have to be with my District 4 tributes but I'll stop by tomorrow night before you go to bed." Finnick answered softly reaching across and giving her hand a squeeze. Carrie nodded mutely, tears filling her eyes and the three of them sat in silence again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

**A/N:** Time jump here to Carrie in the Arena. Flashback paragraphs will be in italics.

0o0o0o0

Running. All she could concentrate on was running as fast and as far as she could. She made the occasional turn so that she wouldn't end up at the barrier Haymitch had mentioned and warned her against using it to her advantage like he had in his games. Though she knew Seneca wouldn't be aiming for her to die, if she looked like she was rebelling against the Capitols ideals she would have to be taken out. She felt her legs grow weary but dared not stop for fear that she was still in range of other tributes. She thought the Bloodbath might still be going on since they hadn't sounded any cannons yet, though she knew for sure that poor Maddy was dead just as Haymitch had so cruelly predicted. The first sign of things being rigged in Carrie's favour was the adrenalin still running through her veins; she had been given an injection in private, out of the view of any cameras, so that she had a better chance of sprinting away from the Bloodbath. The second sign was the backpack located not far from her plate that she had been able to grab before making a run for it. She had been warned of the inevitable energy crash when the adrenalin wore off, though she hoped her mild addiction to energy drinks in her past life would help her stave off most of the negative effects. She just had to make sure she found somewhere relatively safe to sleep before it got dark.

When her breath finally started to become laboured and her heart felt like it would burst through her chest from over-use, Carrie slowed to a strained walk and clasped her hands on top of her head to help ease the cramp in her side. Glancing around nervously, the frightened girl slowed her breathing so as to be able to hear what was going on around her. Whooping cackles of some unidentified animal echoed in the distance and closer to her location she could hear soft birdsong; she was safe for now. Seneca had tipped her off that if she heard birdsong she was out of imminent danger. After their disagreement after her second day of training Seneca had ignored her for the most part and it stung more than she cared to admit, but after the interviews he had come to see her in her private quarters

"_Carrie, may I speak to you please?" Seneca walked slowly into the living area and at her hesitant nod Cinna rose from his seat and left to give the two some privacy. _

"_I apologise for my actions the last time I was here Carrie. I don't like that boy Cable and reacted out of line. Can you forgive me?" The Capitol man said sincerely as he watched as Carrie's expression turned from a frown into a gentle smile. She shook her head exasperatedly._

"_Yes Seneca, I forgive you. You really have nothing to worry about though. I know you're going to be looking out for me when I'm in the arena and I trust you in doing that." She stood up and pressed her body close to him for the comforting embrace he offered. _

"_I wanted to speak to you about that Carrie, you said before that you don't want to know everything that will be in there, does that still stand?" _

"_Yes"_

"_What about if we have a private signal? I can let you know when you're out of imminent danger. Would that be acceptable?" _

_Carrie chewed her lip thoughtfully before nodding. "Ok, that would be alright I suppose." She felt Seneca let out a sigh of relief and turned her face up to see him better. _

"_Thankyou. I've organized it this year that birds will generally sing when there is no danger. If you hear soft birdsong if there are certainly no other tributes near. It won't necessarily be loud so you'll need to listen out for it and be careful when it stops."_

_He watched her nod and pulled her little body back into his tightly. "I won't be able to see you in person tomorrow Carrie, be careful and know that I __will__ be looking after you." Tears welled up in both her eyes as they clung to each other tightly. They were not a couple and neither had openly confessed the depth of their feelings for one another, but they both knew a mutual affection existed and both were dreading the upcoming weeks of separation. _

0o0o0

The light was starting to fade in the arena and Seneca watched one of the smaller screens in the main control room as Carrie checked the contents of her backpack and then tried to cover her the tracks near her enough to burrow under a bush safely for the night. He was relived that she had taken Haymitch's advice about not setting a fire, no matter how cold it got. The Head Game Maker kept his face neutral as he watched the girls' blue-tinged lips and clenched jaw in an attempt to control her chattering teeth, inside though his heart was breaking to see her in such discomfort. Although she had a jacket, the temperature at night in the arena was going to be cold and without a Capitol-grade sleeping bag Carrie was going to find it difficult to be comfortable while she slept. After taking a look at the locations of the other tribues and taking care of what needed doing, Seneca retired for the night. As was common for the career tributes, they hunted late into the night and caught a couple of tributes unaware. He was reassured that Carrie was far enough away from the Cornucopia that they didn't go near her and he was relatively sure of her safety until morning. As he had in his first year, he slept in the Head Game Maker's quarters near the control room. It enabled him to be roused quickly in the event that something 'exciting' happened in the arena that he needed to oversee.

If any of his co-workers noticed anything unusual in his demeanour they didn't mention it. They knew something was different; they had been instructed not to target any of the tributes without his express instruction. Only Plutarch knew of Cranes affections for the strange girl. He had received a coded message from Haymitch about the girl and knew that the new tribute was their only chance of getting Crane to join them. The first hurdle was getting her out alive, and then they would have to try and save her from the 'Victors Curse'. If they could save her from that fate, Crane might be willing to join the cause. He was a man of great power in the Capitol and having him on their side would be extremely useful for the rebellion. Haymitch was more perceptive than people often gave him credit for and he had noticed a change in Seneca. The man was more reserved when talking about their president, he was less enthusiastic about his work and a faint strain of keeping up normal appearances had started to show ever since Carrie had been labelled a tribute. Haymitch and Finnick both suspected he would be willing to turn traitor to the Capitol purely for Carrie's sake.

Both Victors in on the subterfuge with this year's game kept an eager eye on their secret tribute and took it in turns to sleep. The female tribute of district 12 had been killed in the bloodbath and Finnick wasn't expecting his twin tributes to survive for long, when one died the other was sure to follow soon after. Familial bonds weren't often deep in Panem but the twins had a stronger connection than most siblings did. He pitied them but guarded his heart against feeling much more than that. It was for the greater good that Carrie survived. The rebellion was waiting for a symbol of hope, perhaps and angel from the past was what they needed, perhaps Carrie would be able to tell the people or Panem how the country should be by telling of her own past which surely had to be better than the present.

0o0o0

Carrie slept fitfully, waking often either from the cold or from the strange noises in the distance. On more than one occasion she woke with the unsettling feeling that she was being watched, and each time she willed her body to stop shivering and kept her breathing quiet. She heard nothing close to her though and let her eyes slip closed in an attempt to get a little more rest until morning. It felt like an even longer night than the one she spent in the wilderness when she arrived in Panem, because she _knew_ there were people out for her blood. When the first rays of light started seeping through the leaves overhead Carrie reluctantly opened her eyes and tried to steel herself for the oncoming day. It had been a good night; she was still alive. It had rained in the night but the dense foliage and large waxy leaves had kept her dry. Setting her features into a determined blankness and listening for any telltale sounds of company, Carrie carefully eased herself from her place under and amongst the thick bush and took her first step of the day into the view of the public. Everything she did would be watched, monitored, judged, and hopefully approved of. She would need sponsors, and to get them she would have to prove herself. How? She didn't know, but Haymitch's parting advice was _"Don't cry. No matter how much it hurts, don't cry." _She knew it was good advice but considering how much she had cried in the last few weeks she doubted she had many tears left in her anyway.

Instead of dwelling on her thoughts she looked through her pack and when she found the empty water canister, touched her parched lips and decided that the first order of the day was finding water. After the rain she was hopeful she would at least find a puddle nearby. She packed the coil of wire and flashlight under the dried meat and placed the Iodine drops next to the empty canister before neatly rolling her rope up and securing it over her shoulder. Taking note of her surroundings, Carrie smiled wryly at the jungle-like terrain. It was similar to one of the drawings Seneca had found and she frowned in the general direction of the cackling laughter in the distance as she wondered with dread if the Game Makers had included her Human-Mutts too. Glancing around suspiciously, Carrie set out at a steady walk downhill keeping an eye out for signs of human life or water. The dryness in her throat was becoming a distinct bother and she was already beginning to feel light-headed until she struck gold and found a small pool of water in a giant leaf that curled slightly to create a small dish. Restraining herself was difficult when she saw the shimmering pool, but she managed not to gulp it down in one go. Instead she carefully took a sip and waited for any adverse affects. When she didn't feel anything unusual she took turns taking sips and glancing around at her surroundings, looking and listening for any tributes that may be nearby.

Drinking her fill and carefully pouring the remaining water into her canister and tugged out a piece of the dried meat to chew on slowly. She pulled a face at the salty and strange taste but it was by no means the worst thing she had tasted during her stay in the Capitol – this reminded her somewhat of the beef jerky she had tried once as a child. In fact she distinctly remembered declaring to her brother with surety that she wouldn't even eat it if it was the only thing left to eat and she was starving. She let out a quiet and humourless chuckle. Oh how opinions can change. Taking another bite of the foul-tasting meat to satisfy the gnawing pain in her stomach Carrie continued onwards, unsure of where she was going or what she was doing. She knew she couldn't avoid the other tributes forever; the Capitol needed their entertainment of course. Couldn't let the people get bored. She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, thinking back to her era when even prisoners of the worst kind had to be treated with a certain amount of respect and protection. While she had her reservations about how politically correct her world had been getting it was without a doubt better than this world. This country, whose dictator decided the best way to keep his people in line was send 23 children to the slaughter, well, 24 this year, and leave one lone 'victor' to deal with the resulting trauma for the rest of their lives.

In a dark part of her mind she admitted, silently and to herself, that maybe this was the way to go. It was unjust and unfair, but they certainly had no over-population problem. They had little to no crime, the people in the Capitol had plenty to eat and drink. Shocked by her own thoughts she shook her head to rid herself of the darkness. It was deplorable and selfish and cruel of them all. People suffered, children suffered, the elderly and infirm had no hope. Just as she bitterly wondered if the world would ever find a happy medium she became aware of the silence around her; there was no birdsong, and as she drew to a stop, no footsteps. No cackling laughter, no rustling leaves. No noise at all. A shiver ran up her spine and her eyes widened in horror. The silence was unnatural and terrifying and made her wish she could curl into a ball and escape it all. Bending down painfully slowly, Carrie fumbled on the jungle floor for a branch as some sort of weapon or defence. She felt her breath quiver as she stood again, clutching a twisted bit of smooth wood tightly in her hands. When nothing happened for the next few minutes she slowly stepped forwards and tentatively brushed aside the thick vines hanging to the left of her, fully expecting a group of tributes to be standing there with maniacal grins and murder in their eyes. What shocked her breath out of her was, instead, a huge pyramid-like structure set in the jungle. There was barely even a clearing surrounding it. If she stepped forwards a few feet she would be at the foot of the gigantic monstrosity. It had been covered from view by the thick plant life, had she not noticed the silence she could very well have passed it by completely.

0o0o0

Seneca, vaguely aware of other tributes on different screens, watched as Carrie continued to stare at what lay in the very centre of the arena. The Cornucopia was to the near far left of the arena this year, and the pyramid was the centre, the biggest booby trap of them all. And Carrie was the first tribute to find it. She seemed to be unable to take her eyes off it and her vitals to the side of her screen showed an increasing heart rate.

"Shall I send any out yet sir?" one of the people below Seneca called up.

"Not yet, let's see what she does." He replied, stroking his beard in an attempt to appear curious instead of fearful. He knew by now she would recognise the structure, he knew she would be running through her head everything on the bit of paper she had designed, thinking over every possibility that the game makers may have added or altered. By the way her eyes now darted around she had obviously concluded guessed they would at least have included the human-mutts. The camera panned in on her gaze settling at the main entrance high up and to the right of her. The ominous blackness that seemed to emanate from the opening was neither inviting nor reassuring. It was also large enough for a small hoard of people to erupt from unencumbered. She narrowed her gaze and searched out the various other openings, just large enough for a single person to stand. Just perfect enough for an archer to aim from.

"Shit" She murmured. "Bollocks, the fucking… just shit…" Seneca raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her expletives. He knew how much she despised swearing, she had corrected him on more than one occasion, so she must truly be riled up, and rightly so. He fully expected her to run in the opposite direction upon discovering a trap from her own imagination, especially when she probably suspected and rightly guessed much of what lay inside. Instead she surprised everyone in the room by hoisting her rope and backpack more securely on her shoulders and slowly began to circle the pyramid, not yet climbing it but they could all see the curiosity in her eyes.

"Come on Carrie, it is just another adventure. Another game to explore. Just be careful and pretend you're out of health potions." She muttered to herself, no doubt as some form of self encouragement though none of them fully understood the odd reference.

0o0o0

"Shit" She murmured. "Bollocks, the fucking… just shit…" She hated swearing, it was a useless and juvenile way of expressing oneself. She had glared in disdain at people who swore regularly, wanting to hurl a dictionary at them and tell them to broaden their vocabulary. In this particular instance though it fell from her lips without a second thought and she couldn't care less. There were bigger problems than offensive language. She mentally went over her options; she could run away and hide, and then be forced into action by the sadistic game makers who wanted to entertain their people, or she could explore the most-likely-deadly thing in front of her. 'Well if I'm going to die I'll choose the time and location myself' she thought to herself bitterly. She decided that the first thing to do was find out if there were any ground entrances, there was no way in hell she was entering the pyramid but it was worth knowing if she could expect a hoard of crazy human-mutts to come at her from all angles, before she cut off her only escape and climbed higher, because she had no doubt that human-mutts where in the arena. It would certainly explain the cackling laughter, the tenor to it had been entirely too wrong to be naturally human.

"Come on Carrie, it is just another adventure. Another game to explore. Just be careful and pretend you're out of health potions." She muttered as she went along. It reminded her slightly of the video games she used to play; only this was real life and real life meant real death. She snorted when she wondered if there was treasure inside hidden at the very centre. She would no doubt have to over come life-threatening situations. She was under no illusion though; if she entered, there was no way Seneca would be able to save her. The whole place practically screamed 'Death'. From the rotting carcasses laying around uselessly, to the darkness from within that practically oozed out of the opening, to the undeniable fact that it felt like she was being watched by more than just the inevitable cameras. She saw a monstrously huge spider crawl a few feet up and away from her. She shuddered and repressed a scream, hastily hurrying away from it. After a long hour she finally completed her circuit of the Pyramid. There were, thankfully, no ground entrances, which left only the higher ones for her to avoid. The choice now came to whether she would go up or run away. 'Darn it' she scolded her own curiosity as she gave a last look around her before slowly climbing up, keeping close to the rough and dirty stone. There was, oddly, no growth on it. She expected there to be due to the humidity. Walls often had moss or some other such plant life clinging to it. She once again thought back to the Death vibe she got off the place and shook her head to rid herself of the nerve-wracking idea. She had yet to see a human-mutts but she could feel their eyes on her. Occasionally she glanced at a top opening and thought she saw a shape dash to the side just out of clear view. She stayed low and clear of the entrances as best she could.

When she was high enough she looked out over the arena. She couldn't deny that the sight was beautiful, seeing the trees stretch out seemingly endlessly. Dashes of colour from fruit and flowers dotted the vast expanse of green and Carrie took a moment to catch her breath and have a sip of water. She reluctantly bit into her dried meat again to stave off hunger, yet again grateful for her old habits in her past life. She had several unpleasant memories of habits that at the time seemed harmless. Looking back though it was unhealthy, even if it did serve her well now in the arena. Not that long ago she had took to almost starving herself in an attempt to lose weight. She now realised how foolish and dangerous it was, not to mention selfish. There were people in Panem who were quite literally starving, and she had opted out of eating just because she wanted to fit in at school and be thinner. She was disgusted by her actions, but it meant that she was used to going hungry and fighting through the pain. It meant that she stood more chance of dealing with the hunger than the tributes from the favoured districts that rarely went without food. But not as well as the poorer districts who dealt with it daily.

0o0o0

Haymitch watched, drink in hand, as Carrie began her climb. He cursed the foolish girl for walking so willingly into the obvious trap. On a second screen beside him he listened to the commentary that the rest of the Capitol was hearing. They didn't yet know what he knew; they didn't know what lay inside the pyramid. Seneca had tipped him off and he kept and fervent look out for the mutts should they decide to attack Carrie. Seneca was obviously doing his job of protecting the girl by staving off their attack. What the Capitol knew that Carrie didn't though was the fortune that lay atop the pyramid. Should she make it to the top, she would be rewarded with food, water and weapons. Getting there would be near impossible though; he just hoped the foolish girl had enough sense not to climb any higher. She had served enough entertainment value from herself this early in the game simply by discovering and partly exploring the pyramid. As the game progressed she would need to do more to win favour, but at the moment Finnick was out busy getting sponsors for her. The Capitol people liked foolish bravery; they liked to see tributes dance with death by exploring traps.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. I also don't own Disney, but their films are awesome enough to be referenced.

0o0o0o0

Carrie heard the laughter coming her way and the cocky voice of Blaze rose out of the jungle as he made some sort of lewd comment. She swore under her breath again and started to jog as quickly as she dared towards the edge of the pyramid she was on in an attempt to get round to one of the other sides before any of the careers saw her if they broke through the screen of trees and vines currently shielding her. They sounded like they were getting closer but it was difficult to tell with how far up she was. Her foot slipped once and for a heart stopping moment she thought she'd go tumbling down. With little more than a grazed arm she caught herself though and continued to hurry along her path. When the stick in her hand became more of a hindrance than a help she flung it far into the jungle below, hoping that perhaps the noise it created would lead the other tributes away from her position. She finally reached the edge and peeked around the sharp corner to make sure the side was clear before she crept round, her heart in her throat with the fear rushing through her. A shudder rippled through her and she suddenly felt violently ill. She'd had several other moments like it throughout the day and suspected it had something to do with coming of the drugs Finnick admitted they'd been giving her. Clutching at her head and stomach she held back the urge to vomit. It would do no good to make noise now, or to bring up what little food and water she had inside her. When the illness passed and her eyes stopped watering she took a better look at the side she was on and with a gasp realized it was the one with the main entrance. The main entrance she was now level with.

She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, deciding the best thing to do would be to get as far away from her current position as possible, away from the unknown dangers lurking in the structure she stood on and away from the tributes nearby to her. Just as she began to descend though, she heard a blood curdling scream come from below her followed by pitiful shouts for them to take mercy on her. The roaring laughter that soon followed the girls' cries drowned out her last scream. Carrie bit back a sob, sinking her teeth into the fleshy part of her hand to stop from making a sound. She realized with horror that she had obviously thrown the stick into the direction of another tribute, the first death inadvertently on her hands, even though it meant she was safe. Slowly, birdsong rose up from the treetops and the careers group made their noisy path deeper into the jungle and away from Carrie and the pyramid. They had been **so close** to discovering her; she had been so close to nearly dying. She tore her hand away from her mouth and realized numbly that she'd left a perfect indentation of her teeth from clamping down so hard. She barely even registered the pain. A hovercraft made its way around the pyramid and Carrie watching in morbid fascination as a the small body of the girl she vaguely recognized as the district 7 girl floated limply up and into the hovercraft. Her face was bloody and where her eyes used to be were now two dark hollows. Her throat had been slit as the deathblow and the red blood was almost a constant stream pumping out of her. This time Carrie did retch, she heaved until her stomach was empty and tears streamed down her face. Part of her mourned the loss of the child she didn't even know, and another part registered that that could have been her fate had she not thrown the stick on a whim.

Wiping her mouth in disgust and swilling a little water around to rid herself of the awful taste, Carrie slowly began to carefully descend and kept half an ear out to listen to the reassuring birdsong. She sidestepped the rotting carcasses that were strewn around and held her breath against the stench until she came across one that looked relatively fresh. She poked it with her boot lightly and turned it over first, and then with her face wrinkled in disgust she put the back of her hand to it. It was still warm and limp, only freshly dead. She chewed her lip nervously and glanced about. There was no one else around and the birds were still singing. She considered keeping it to eat but quickly decided against it when she felt her stomach roll again. She was not yet hungry enough to skin and gut an animal but decided to take it anyway just in case and, being careful of the face, she gingerly lifted up the dead mammal and hoisted it over her shoulder. It was then that she felt and noticed the small dart in its neck. Narrowing her eyes she plucked it out and inspected the feathered weapon that was too small for her to make use of. The needle had been coated in something; she was sure of that much from the faint green ooze leaking out of the now clear pinprick wound. Wiping the residue away from the fur with the feathers, she left the dart behind and took the animal with her as she descended. Only after she was once again in the shade of the trees did Carrie realise how red and warm her skin was, much longer up there and she would have been properly burnt. As it was she suspected it was only because it was still early in the day that she hadn't gotten worst sunburn. She admonished her own foolishness for being out unprotected for so long. It had served some good though, she knew for sure now that there were human-mutts, though she suspected no one else knew yet, and she knew they used darts that most likely had poisoned tips. She also had one less tribute to worry about but she strayed away from thinking about that too much. Instead she continued to listen out for the birdsong that grew faint at times, and plodded along slowly.

She was lucky enough to stumble upon some leaves that she recognized as edible even though they were bitter. She plucked several handfuls and stuffed what she didn't eat into her backpack, taking the chance to rest on a log. It was long past mid day now and the body she carried around was getting heavy to carry. She absent-mindedly patted the fur, remembering her own pet Mutt whose fur had often comforted her to stroke. The dead creature in her arms was almost comforting too and she was tempted to keep hold of it as a sort of teddy bear, despite the fact she had mocked the career tributes about such a thing at the parade when she first met them. Shaking her head to herself and wondering if she **had** been out in the sun too long after all, Carrie took the coil of wire from her bag and began to tie it in loops and knots before securing it to a flexible looking sapling. Once her snare was created, she stroked the fur of the dead animal once more and, making sure there was no clear sign of a dart having killed it, set it up to look like the snare had killed the creature. She was far enough away from the pyramid to ensure that if anyone stumbled upon it they wouldn't assume it was from the dead girl. Happy with the set up, Carrie carefully erased any sign of her being in the area and tentatively made her way away from the creature and kept walking. It took until nightfall for her to be happy that she was far enough away from the snare that anyone who stumbled upon wouldn't find her if they looked for the tribute who set it up. It had taken painstaking care to ensure she left no tracks or clues to her walking direction and she was bone achingly tired by the time darkness fell. She rubbed at the ache in her stomach, glad that she had at least been able to refill her canister from another leaf pool since she had been sipping from it all day. Dehydration was her main concern, as she chewed the last of her bitter leaves she decided to deal with hunger tomorrow and find something more substantial to eat, though she still hated the idea of having to skin and gut an animal.

Darkness fell quicker than Carrie was comfortable about, and she scouted out the bush she would hide under for the night. The leaves were thick and waxy like the night before so she hoped to be sheltered from both sight and rain if the need arose, this time though there were plenty of thorns in the surrounding area too. The girl hoped it would act as a deterrent for any animals or tributes that might come across the area, 'or mutts' she thought grimly to herself. She licked at a few of the scratches she'd obtained on her hands getting into her safe haven for the night and gingerly pulled a few leaves apart to see the night sky when the music began to play. Only the district 7 girl had died that day, and Carrie went to sleep thinking about how close it was to her image lighting the sky that night. She shuddered and clamped her mouth shut against her chattering teeth and the cold. She remembered her mother telling her once that if she put her hands to her neck or under her arms on cold days it would help warm them, and she shivered once more when her icy hands closed around her neck. They slowly warmed enough for the pain of the cold to ease and she settled once more into a wakeful sleep, never truly resting.

0o0o0

Finnick watched in dismay when the career tributes nearly found Carrie. They were seconds away from opening the vines when she threw her stick, taking the attention away from the pyramid they had not yet seen. He exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding and looked over at Haymitch who was looking as stoic as ever.

"That was close." He mumbled to the older mentor who showed no sign of replying. "She needs a weapon Haymitch. If they'd have found her she wouldn't have stood a chance."

"She needs more sponsors if you want her to get a weapon, and she won't get them by throwing up like that." He bit out, watching in disgust as their girl heaved on the yellowing bricks of the pyramid. "A weapon will do her no good anyway, she's useless at hand to hand. The best we can hope for is she'll be facing someone weak at the end…if she makes it that far." He added heatedly.

"Something is better than nothing, if she faces anyone now she won't stand a chance."

"I know that!" Haymitch suddenly roared angrily. "I know she will stand no chance. If they had seen her nothing short of a miracle would have saved her, they would have trapped her. She was a fool for going up there."

But Finnick made no reply; he was concentrating at the screens. One showed Carrie's current movements as she prodded the dead animal, while another screen shot up information for the public and her mentors about the creature. Ordinarily it would be edible at this stage in death, but it had been poisoned, meaning illness or even death if she consumed it.

"She wouldn't…." Finnick whispered hoarsely, knowing full well how hungry the girl probably was by now. Just as he was about to send her a parachute of food, hoping she would get the message not to eat the animal, they both saw her discover the dart. She smirked grimly and wisely didn't touch the green fluid leaking out of the small wound. Wiping the excess off and throwing the dart to one side, they watched her hoist it over her shoulder and set out at a steady pace down into the jungle. It went on for hours, they would watch over their own district tributes and Carrie, though nothing moving happened in the arena until Carrie began to make her snare.

"What is she doing?" Finnick murmured, watching the screens with curiosity as she plucked up the dead animal and, stroking it briefly, set it up in the wire trap.

"Using her brains." Haymitch smirked. "If any other tributes come across it while it's fresh they'll eat it for sure. She just needs to high tail it out of there and make sure she isn't tracked." Sure enough the whole of Panem watched her cover her tracks and make her careful way deeper into the jungle, being sure not to leave traces of her path. The night was quiet and morning rose without much trouble until the career tributes found the snare shortly after dark.

0o0o0

Carrie woke to the distant laughter that was completely human. For a second she didn't dare move. It was far away but simply the fact that it was in her hearing range made it entirely too close to comfort for her. It was in the general direction she knew she had set her trap and she briefly considered hiding for the day under the foliage until she realized that was an idiotic plan because at the very least she definitely needed food if she wanted to stay conscious. Gritting her teeth and taking reassurance that the birds still sang, albeit softly, Carrie carefully and as quietly as possible climbed from her nest. She cautiously pushed the leaves and thorns into a more natural position and set out at a brisk walk in the opposite direction of the laughter, keeping her footsteps quiet and her body flexible to stay out of the way of the branches. She had always been good as obstacle courses and it was serving her well since she chose the less-than-easy route. She took comfort from the birds growing louder and the lack of noise from anything nearby. She spent her day looking over her shoulder warily and stopping only when she needed, like when she blessedly found more of the leaves she had found the previous day. She once again picked them close to the ground and scattered dirt and leaves over the old plant so as not to give away their freshly picked appearance. It was enough to stop the pain gnawing inside her but she knew she would have to resort to finding meat soon, as disgusting as the idea of hunting was to her. It went against her very nature; she would rather come face to face with another tribute than purposefully kill an animal. Even she knew her morals were a bit 'off' in the respect.

With a heavy sigh Carrie set about upturning logs to forage for insects, looking out for the ones she had learned in her training that were edible raw, or at the very least wouldn't make her ill. She snorted as her mind was thrown back to her own time, watching Disneys Lion King.

"Hakuna, Matata, what a wonderful phrase. Hakuna Matata, ain't no passing craze..." she half sung under her breath. "Aha." She exclaimed when she came across a small group of fat grubs wriggling around under a damp log. She peeled back her lips in disgust once she'd thoroughly inspected them. Squeezing her eyes shut she quickly threw one into her mouth and swallowed it whole, trying not to throw it up. "Well that's disgusting." She gagged on the taste and texture, but it didn't stop her eating the rest of them in the same manner. It took a while for her stomach to stop rolling but when it did she found she wasn't so hungry anymore. "Slimy yet satisfying." She giggled and quoted. Taking care to return the log to its original position, Carrie once again set out walking without any real idea of what she was planning on doing other than trying to stay alive.

0o0o0

Seneca watched with a cocked eyebrow as Carrie started to sing quietly to herself. It wasn't a song he recognised and by the looks on everyone else's faces it was safe to assume it was one from the past. When she found the grubs to eat he had to turn away, it may be necessary for her but it looked disgusting, especially as they wiggled in her hold and he simply didn't know how she managed to keep them down. He was disgusted on her behalf that after just a few days in the arena she had resorted to eating them when he knew for a fact she had several sponsors already. At the first possible free moment he had, Seneca walked into the privacy of his own quarters and angrily rang Finnick.

"Hello?"

"O'dair do you care to tell me why the girl is being forced to eat bugs instead of having her mentor send her at least one decent meal? You are meant to be overseeing her sponsorship money and well-being are you not?"

"While she is able to forage for her own food it will improve her chances of impressing people. If I think at any time she is becoming dangerously hungry I will send her something, have no fear about that. I'm also hoping to get her enough sponsorship money to get her a small weapon, this early in the game we have a chance of affording it."

Seneca fell silent and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking over his next words carefully. "Contact me if there isn't enough to afford something by the end of tomorrow. The cost of supplies will be raised by the end of the week." Without waiting for an answer, Seneca hung up the phone and began to make his way back to the control room when Plutarch came walking up to him.

"The girl is good, I'll give her that." He smiled wryly.

"What are you on about Heavensbee?"

"The stunt she pulled with that poisoned animal? The Careers found it this morning."

"Yes, I was aware of that." Seneca replied unenthusiastically. "What's your point?"

"They're cooking it as we speak." The older man smiled, a glint in his eyes.

"What was the poison we used in those darts again?" Seneca asked with a raised eyebrow.

"One that can't be cooked out." Plutarch grinned as they both re-entered the control room and strolled down the steps. On the largest screen in the room was live feed of the career tributes sitting around their fire, the group was split in the decision to eat the meat they had come across and an argument was beginning to break out.

"I don't care if you're hungry you idiot, there's no trace of anyone else in the area. If they set a trap for food they wouldn't stray far from it. Why would they leave a perfectly good meal unattended?"

"What if it was that girls' from yesterday we killed?"

"Her location was too far away from the snare to be hers, and she wasn't good at traps in training anyway. I'm telling you, something ain't right about this." Their leader said forcefully, motioning to the skinned animal that was rotating slowly over the fire.

"If you don't want to eat it then fine, but I'm not wasting it. It'll be fine. You're just being paranoid Blaze." His district partner rolled her eyes and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"Sparkle, are you actually that thick or is it just because you want to get into Caiyn's pants that you're agreeing with him?" Blaze shot back. He shook his head and stood, stretching his arms over his head nonchalantly. "Do what you want, but I'm not touching it. The whole thing looked too suspicious to me, whoever set that trap covered their tracks well. There was no reason for them not to come back for it. It was cold dead long before we found it."

Seneca watched in amusement as the district 2 boy flipped off their group leader behind his back. Whatever Carrie's reasons were for setting up the animal the way she did, it was certainly going to be interesting to see what would happen to the tributes who ate it. The district 1 boy, Blaze, certainly had the right idea. At the moment Seneca wasn't sure which way The district 2 girl would go, at 15 she was young for a volunteer but she seemed to be intelligent.

Once the animal was cooked and cut, it was split between the four of them. Blaze adamantly refused to touch his meat, though he didn't throw it away. Sparkle was the first to sink her teeth into it's flesh but after a few bites she dropped the leg she was gnawing on into her lap and grasped her neck melodramatically with eyes wide open. The entire room watched as she made choking noises and continued to grab at her throat before she suddenly cracked up laughing, startling the other girl and Caiyn who had both been eating the meat too.

"You should have seen your faces, that was priceless." She giggled and picked up the leg again. "Honestly, it tastes just fine Blaze." She rolled her eyes when he stared at her impassively and they ignored each other after that.

Throughout the rest of the day the cameras would pan back to the Careers while Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith spoke in excited tones whenever they came on screen. The whole of Panem now knew of Carrie's trick with the poisoned animal and they were all eager to see what the ramifications of it would be. By the time night fell, each of the tributes that had eaten some of the meat were violently ill and Finnick was being inundated with sponsorship money for Carrie for her 'stroke of brilliance' and 'cunning mind' as several people enthusiastically put it. She had run into no other trouble for the rest of the day and Finnick and Haymitch were pleased enough with the amount of money she had to send her a small tub of broth before she settled under another bush for the night. The grin that split across her face was radiant and she whispered a quiet thankyou when the package floated down in front of her. She kept half of it for the next day and they watched satisfied as the girl went about her usual routine of settling under a thick bush for the night.

0o0o0

No tributes showed up in the sky that night, and Carrie wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. It would certainly mean something 'entertaining' would have to happen tomorrow before the public became bored. She contemplated going back to the pyramid in the morning to explore some more just to satisfy that need for them but after much silent debate with herself she decided she'd rather not unless it became an absolute necessity. A shiver ran through her as she mulled over different thoughts. She still wasn't resilient to the cold of the night but was becoming more used to it and fell asleep quickly, clutching her still-warm pot of broth in her hands to make use of the heat from it. She was startled awake when she heard the canon sound off and swore softly when the slight glint of a hovercraft drifted over her position and she realised how close she must be to other tributes. In the darkness she had no way of identifying the corpse and wouldn't know until the following evening who the body once was. Carrie's breathing began to pick up when she heard footsteps tread close by and the muffled voices of the careers, though she quickly forced herself to calm down and muffled her breathing with her sleeve. For the rest of the night Carrie stayed wide-awake, terrified of being discovered and killed. 'Murdered, assassinated, slain, slaughtered, executed, exterminated, eradicated, dead.' Her mind went over and over all the words associated with the same ending and by the time morning came she was covered in a cold sweat and felt certain that she'd find the careers surrounding her if she rose from the safety of the plant-life she was nestled under. The sun rose high in the sky before Carrie was brave enough to stand, her face was dirty and tear tracks cut identical clean paths down her cheeks while he eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep. She poked her head out and nearly wept in relief when the sound of birdsong finally made its way through her haze of panic. Forgoing food and water when she felt so physically ill, Carrie covered her area and carefully set out again, looking much like a startled deer in the way she would stop and look around at the slightest noise that disrupted the quiet of the jungle.

She hurried through the day in the same manner, becoming more and more skittish as the day went on and she felt as though eyes were watching her everywhere. The good part of the day came when she received another parcel; it calmly floated down to land at her feet with a soft thud and Carrie glanced around nervously before opening it. Inside was the most glorious thing she could have ever imagined, it was even better than the broth she had gotten the night before; it was a shiny new dagger. The blade was lightweight and the handle easy to grasp. She experimented different moves with it and though she wasn't very proficient with a blade it would serve her better than a branch if she came up against anyone. She reverently threaded the scabbard onto her belt and settled the blade into its home. From then on in the day Carrie had more composure, she felt more secure whenever she ran her hand over the hilt

It was just before sunset when Carrie next sat down for a rest. She had already picked out her place for the night and had eaten the rest of her broth. She drew the dagger out to inspect it some more and found a small inscription on the blade that read 'Whatever it takes.' Reading it drew her memory back to when she had sat curled into Seneca's side whilst he spoke to Haymitch.

"_She has me. I'll be doing everything in my power to help her." Seneca said forcefully. _

"_And is that because Snow told you to or is there some other motive?" Carrie heard Haymitch ask as he looked between the head game maker and herself. During the conversation of the night they had moved closer together until she was curled up, sleepily leaning against Seneca while he absent mindedly rubbed circles on her back. She couldn't imagine a more comfortable place to be and felt her eyes growing tired, closing against her will._

"_What does it matter what my reasons are?" Seneca growled, starling her slightly with his tone._

"_Answer the question Crane."_

"_I would do whatever I could to keep her alive, whether ordered to or not." The man replied tersely. Carrie opened her eyes tiredly to see a slow smile spread across Haymitch's face. _

"_That's what I like to hear. So you're with her through and through? Whatever keeps her alive and all that?" He pointed between them, eyeing the other man with keen interest. _

"_Whatever keeps her alive." Seneca confirmed holding the girl closer. Carrie smiled and let her eyes drift closed again, feeling safe. _

A silly grin crossed her face and she murmured the inscripted words to herself, wrapping her arms around herbody in happiness. Seneca was still watching out for her. But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a rustling came from nearby. The slow shuffle of feet edged Carrie to stand and she panicked, trying to force her brain into action. It sounded like there was only one person and Carrie looked down at the blade in her hand, swallowing back the bile trying to make it up her throat.

"Please forgive me, Lord." She whispered just as the person shambled through the screen of vines in front of her. When the being came into view though Carrie could make no sound, she couldn't even scream through her terror. The girl that was once from District One was so deformed she was barely recognizable. Various organs hung from her stomach, seemingly partially melted. Her eyes were gauged out with scratch marks marring her once beautiful face and her teeth, once pearly white, were now cracked and yellowing. The thing that used to be Sparkle shambled in the general direction of Carrie, but as soon as It heard her feet crack on a twig It turned blindly towards her with Its mouth agape and raised a hand to point at Carrie.

"What are you?" Carrie whispered in horror, her dagger raised half-heartedly. The creature let loose a low moan and began to cough up blood, spattering it over Carrie who stood numbly. She was forced into action when the creature shambled closer and caught her wrist in an iron-like grip. Carrie finally screamed in terror and she didn't even register when she brought the dagger down into It. She kept hacking away with a fog of fear clouding her vision. Chunks of flesh flew in all directions and Carrie didn't stop until her grip on the dagger became slick with blood and the creature fell to the ground at long last and fell still, Its sightless eyes staring up at Carrie as though in accusation. All Carrie could do was vomit, heaving out the entire contents of her stomach and trying to wipe the black blood off of herself and her weapon but it was a futile effort when there was too much of it. She heard shouting and laughter heading her way and she grabbed her pack and fled, she didn't stop running until she was sure they were left far behind. She continued to walk though, even when weariness overtook her body and it started to shake in protest she didn't dare stop.

The images kept running over and over in her head and she once again stopped to heave, even though her stomach was empty by now. She sobbed into her hands, which only served to smear the blood more, and the distraught girl grabbed at leaves in another attempt to clean herself. When it started to pelt it down with rain she realized Seneca must have seen her efforts and she tilted her face up to the sky and let it pour down on her, washing the blood and tears away. Thunder rolled over the arena and lightening lit the sky, Carrie felt as though the game makers were forcing the climate to express the grief and fear she felt. With the thunder drowning out her screams, Carrie shouted to the sky. She screamed and hollered until her throat was hoarse and sore. She yelled until she lost her voice and then she sat onto her hunches and simply wept. She wept for the girl who died next to the pyramid, she wept for her own lost innocence when she faced the zombie-like creature of what used to be Sparkle, and she wept in relief that it was herself and not her brother in this situation. When Carrie could cry no more she fell silent, curled up into the foetal position on the floor in the pitch black of the night. She let the rain continue to fall on her and she ignored the cold that set into her bones. The only thing she kept an ear out for was the odd hoot of an owl that had taken seat in a tree nearby, Seneca's effort to reassure her that she was safe for now.

0o0o0

"What the fuck was that Crane? Why the hell would you do that to the girl?" Haymitch had Seneca pinned by the neck in an empty corridor and the Capitol man made no move to escape Haymitch's drunken vice-like grip.

"Higher orders. He has a brief of what we have to include in the games sent to him the night before they go in." He replied softly, his own eyes haunted with the memory of seeing Carrie's fear. Haymitch understood immediately whom Seneca meant. President Snow.

"Entertainment value…" The mentor mumbled, releasing Seneca as the fight instantly drained out of him. "That will disturb her for life I hope you realise. Why the fuck would you include something so twisted? How on earth did you people think that up?" He stared in accusation, jabbing Seneca in the chest roughly.

"It was of the girls own creation a while back." Seneca replied wearily. "She's so innocent sometimes it's shocking. She had just come to see the game centre and when we got back to her quarters she sat drawing her own ideas. She didn't know I would use them when I saw them; she only drew them as her own form of entertainment. Apparently it reminded her of films she used to watch. When I put them to the other game makers I never dreamt Carrie would have to go into the games herself. I never dreamt she would have to face them"

Haymitch stood there speechless. His eyes glazed over in shock as he tried to gather his thoughts. "We're going to have to do some serious damage control if she comes out of that arena. The way she reacted is not entirely unexpected. But it was a close call when the remaining careers followed the sound of her fighting."

"I know. That's why I ordered the rain and thunder when she broke down. It also served to cover most of her tracks when she ran off. We'll have to watch her carefully in the morning. I suggest you go get some sleep now though. You look like I feel." Seneca clapped Haymitch on the shoulder and they went their separate ways, Haymitch disabling the jammer he'd had in his pocket to ensure their meeting stayed private.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

0o0o0o0

Part way into the second week of the games and there were only 7 other tributes for Carrie to face. Finnick had lost the twins from his district and Haymitch lost the last of his tributes, which left both of the mentors to fully concentrate on Carrie. When the time came for family and friends' interviews about the tributes, Caesar Flickerman brought in Finnick and Seneca, as well as a few other members from the Society that she had first lived with. They had also taken the time to flash up pictures of Carrie's family from the photos she had from her camera when she first arrived.

The rest of week passed as quietly as Carrie could have dared to dream it to be. She didn't meet another single living being, be it tribute or mutt and she considered that in itself a blessing. In regards to her behaviour though, what the Capitol found entertaining, Seneca and Finnick found concerning - Carrie had taken to singing and speaking under her breath nearly constantly. At times it was so soft she was inaudible, but they could see her lips working. It was a novelty for the Capitol citizens who had never heard most of the songs she sang, and though she wasn't much of a singer most of the people simply thought that simply added to her charm in a slightly 'quirky' way.

Every night Carrie would take the dagger from its sheath and read the words written in it. She would polish the blade with her sleeve and after returning it to it's place by her side, the whole of Panem would watch her kneel and clasp her hands and send a prayer up to the sky. She would pray to win, to come out victor. The Capitol citizens would sigh in approval as Carrie prayed for continued peace in Panem, for the evildoers to be exorcized. President Snow would smile in the privacy of his home when she thanked this 'Lord' she prayed to, for the mercy and compassion of President Coriolanus Snow. Though religion was a long ago abandoned thing in Panem, they oddly found it endearing that Carrie spoke of it. Already the richest citizens who had bought or inherited religious artefacts were dusting them off and bringing them out of storage to show them off with pride.

Finnick was on the verge of contacting Seneca to discuss Carrie's disturbing behaviour when the screen he was sitting in front of began to beep. The little red dot with Carrie's name beside it was closing in on one with Cable's name. They were about to meet for the first time since entering the arena and Finnick wasn't sure what would happen when they saw each other. He noticed Carrie draw her dagger and could see her eyes dart around though he didn't know how she knew there was danger nearby since the boy was sitting still and making no noise. He saw her chest rise and fall as she took a steadying breath, and in her next move she turned a corner and found the boy with his eyes closed, sleeping peacefully.

"Rats." She murmured, toying with the blade in her hands. Finnick could see the indecision written across her face about whether to kill the defenceless lad or simply walk away, until she started to giggle and shoved her blade back in it's sheath. 'She truly has lost it.' He thought despairingly, his mind racing back to his own beloved and broken Annie. The laughter emitting from Carrie woke Cable with a start and in an instant he was on top of her and raising what looked like a knot of rope to beat her with. It just caused her to laugh harder and recognition flashed across Cable's face. He loosened his grip marginally but didn't let up straight away.

"I though you agreed not to use that idea against me." Carrie grinned, pointing to the hefty knotted rope in Cable's still-raised hand.

"Carrie? What are you doing here?" He asked in obvious confusion.

"Just passing through y'know. Thought I'd take in the sights and all that." Carrie smirked up at him. "Look, I decided not to kill you, the least you could do is let me up Cable. I know we didn't team up but it's hardly sportsman like to try to kill me when I decided to spare you my blade."

"Oh uh, right. Sorry."

Finnick watched in relief when the boy got off Carrie and helped her up. His mind was still racing over all the possible ways that could have gone wrong and if he were able to he would have given her a severe talking to about putting herself in such a vulnerable position.

"How'd you know I wasn't going to hurt you?" Cable asked, sitting back down beside Carrie who shrugged.

"I wasn't certain. But you were always nice to me in training and I couldn't bring myself to kill a friend, especially when you were asleep. Friendly hint but don't do that again during the day. If I was anyone else there'd be a hovercraft here by now." She bumped his shoulder with her own and pulled her pack onto her lap. Cable watched as she pulled out what looked to be a package of leaves. "Grub?" She offered him as she unwrapped the make-shift parcel.

"Ugh, how can you eat these?" His disgust was clear but he took one nonetheless.

"It's either this or kill an animal. I'd rather not do that." Carrie said with her own scrunched up face. She had become accustomed to the fat grubs but it still wasn't a pleasant experience. "Thanks for not killing me by the way. You wanna form that alliance?" She asked casually.

"Why now? Why not before?" The boy asked suspiciously.

"I was advised against it. Now though…well there are some pretty nasty things in here Cable, and not just the other tributes to worry about. I think we'd both benefit travelling together for a few days."

"Are you talking about that pyramid thing? I got creepy vibes off it but that was all."

Finnick watched Carrie carefully choose her next words.

"Have you ever heard of zombies in your district?" When she saw him shake his head she laughed humourlessly. "You're lucky. In my day we had movies about that sort of thing – people coming back from the dead with rotted flesh and such. But it never **actually** happened. It was just fun and games, maybe a bit scary in some films, but it was all make-believe. It's not fake here though, I don't know how they did it and I don't want to. But it's terrifying." She finished in a near whispered.

"I don't understand Carrie, what are you saying? What have you seen?"

"Sparkle. I think she died. A few days back a canon sounded shortly after the death count for the day was done. The next night just before dark she came towards me. But she was **dead** Cable. She couldn't have been alive. Her eyes were gauged out, her stomach was falling out with the rest of her organs and her blood was black. It took so much to get her to fall and even then parts of her kept twitching. I think they must have found a way to reanimate her or replicate her or something. It was the stuff of nightmares. I've heard the careers screaming at night, and heard them shouting 'What is it? What is it?' I think they must have seen the zombies too. Anyway, that's why I want to team up. We can take turns sleeping and make sure we don't get crept up on by other tributes or anything else."

"I can't imagine what that would be like to come against. Are you ok?" Cable asked, wrapping an arm around Carrie's shoulder.

"Yeah I'm fine. Stiff upper lip and all that." She smiled though it didn't reach her eyes.

"What? Why would you want a stiff lip?" he asking in obvious confusion. Finnick couldn't help but grin, he'd had much the same reaction when he first heard Carrie say that.

"It's an expression from my time, it's not literal don't worry. It means to restrain oneself from expressing emotions like fear or grief. Basically to keep soldiering on whatever happens."

"What use is that? It sounds like a pretty flawed way of living; emotions are there to be expressed. My mom used to tell me not to bottle feelings up otherwise they'd just get worst."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to." Carrie shrugged, packing away her bag again and standing up.

"What? What does _that_ one mean?" Cable asked exasperatedly and rose to his feet with her.

"That's another saying: 'You say potayto, I say potahto.' Basically we agree to disagree. You say one thing and I say another, it's just different points of view. Eesh, I have so much to teach you people! Come on, if we keep our voices down I'll teach you some more sayings." She grinned and checked over her dagger again before setting out at a steady pace, unaware of how much she had made Finnick smile as she set about teaching Cable and the rest of Panem some of her favourite sayings, or how angry she had made Seneca by not only keeping the boy alive but forming an alliance with him. The pair travelled all day and Cable followed Carrie's example and hunkered down in a bush close to her. They had heard a canon sound in the early afternoon and the looked up at the sky when the image of the district 10 boy came up.

"He was the eldest of all of us. I'm surprised he was taken out." Carrie whispered just loud enough for Cable to hear.

"Just be glad he was. There are only 7 of us left now though and we're all about the same age." Silence met his reply and after a few minutes he called out softly again. "You alright Carrie?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking. I don't want it to get down to just us two. If I die I hope you win Cable. Find yourself a nice girl back home to marry, maybe have kids. Promise me you'll make the most of life and cherish what you have…"

"I hope it doesn't end in us two either Carrie. I don't think I'll make it to the end though, I'm lucky to have made it this far."

"Don't say that Cable. Please just…promise me that you'll make the most of life if you win…" she pleaded, moving the leaves away from her face so she could see his eyes underneath the foliage next to her.

"Alright…I promise Carrie. Get some sleep we've got a long day tomorrow. I'll take first shift." He replied uncomfortably.

"Night Cable. I'm glad we met."

0o0o0

Plutarch urgently tried to wake his superior, shaking the man's shoulder roughly. As soon as he saw Seneca's eyes open the words tumbled out his mouth.

"It's the girl, the careers are closing in on her." No sooner where the words out Plutarch's mouth than Seneca was standing and throwing his jacket on. He hurried from his sleeping quarters to the control room, glad to have fallen asleep fully dressed.

"Update." He ordered the nearest worker with authority, fighting not to let his true fear seep into his voice.

"The district 1 and 2 tributes woke and set out 15 minutes ago sir. They were headed south until the male district 3 tribute yelled out from the acid rope he had just touched on one of the northern tree-houses. The group changed route and are headed towards him now. Tribute 0 is with him."

"Estimated arrival?"

"3 minutes sir. Shall I prepare the canons?"

Seneca held back his grimace and nodded swiftly. "Keep the dog-mutts on stand-by too."

0o0o0

Carrie hovered in concern around Cable, trying to think of a way to soothe his obvious pain. They had woken and set out walking early on. It had been quiet until they had had spied a tree-house, obviously a set piece by the game makers. Before Carrie could suggest that it was perhaps too easy, Cable had reached for the rope dangling down and his hands were coated with acid that was imbibed into the rope. After initially yelling out from pain as it ate at his flesh he tried to muffle his groans, though Carrie was still worried that they would be found. Despite his raw, blistered, and bloody hands she was trying to coax him into moving locations. Her eyes darting around looking for the oncoming danger as she heard the birds fall silent. Cable was in too much pain to register much of what she was saying though.

"Cable, we really need to move. I know you're in pain but other tributes will have heard us." She whispered frantically again. It was when she started tugging at his arm that he nodded tensely but by then it was too late and they heard the first of the rustlings and the catcalls of the careers getting louder. "Oh God, ohgodohgodohgod" Carrie mumbled, quickly unsheathing her dagger and holding it at her side knowing with certainly that it wouldn't help her enough to save her life against the trained careers. Cable, who was pushing at her with his shoulders, backed her up a few feet.

"Run Carrie, get out of here!" He shouted, trying to shove her away again into action.

"I'm not leaving you and they're too close anyway. I **won't** die running." She said through clenched teeth, though fear shook her voice. She had barely finished the sentence when the Careers burst into sight.

"Well well well. It's about time we saw you girly. I'm going to enjoy this!" Blaze sneered as the tributes Carrie recognized from district 2 fanned out to trap them. "I've been raised a gentleman of course, I'll let you try the first blow with that dagger of yours." He ridiculed.

"Leave her alone." Cable hissed, raising his heavy knot of rope in his throbbing hands. The careers burst out laughing and drew their own weapons.

"What you going to do with that when I have a sword. You're head will be rolling on the floor before you even have a chance to strike us with it." He then faced the other boy. "That girl is mine, I had dibs on her since we first saw her." He smirked lecherously.

"CABLE NO!" Carrie shouted as he rushed forwards suddenly. There was a flurry of movement that Carrie struggled to keep up with until she saw the spray of blood flash through the air and Cable's body fall to the ground. "NO!" she screamed. It was all so fast that Carrie didn't have time to think anything. The other girl charged her and forced her to the ground before Blaze ripped said girl off of her and threw her to the side.

"I said she. Is. Mine." Blaze thundered settling on top of her waist himself. "I like a screamer." He leered when she started bucking underneath him in an attempt to free herself of his weight. She brought the dagger up but her wrist was twisted and pinned to the ground, forcing her to drop it. "Now now, that wasn't very nice was it?" He scolded mockingly. With her legs pinned beneath his stronger body, Carrie was unable to move when he leant down and ran his nose the length of her neck. "I love the scent of your fear." He whispered, flicking his tongue out and licking up a bead of her sweat. "Mmm, salty." Carrie began to sob but the sound of her cries was drowned out when the district 2 boy began to scream. The weight on her body was suddenly gone as a large dark figure collided with Blaze. His own screams send the pair of district 2 tributes running, not even bothering to try helping as they tried to outrun the dark shapes chasing after them.

The sound of gurgling brought Carries attention to her side and she stared in horror at Blaze's now-silent screams while a dog-mutt sank its teeth into his neck. The blood splattered her own face and she lurched away from the action to crouch over Cable's still body. She pressed her fingers to his neck and, upon, finding no pulse and spotting the gaping wound in his chest she began to sob harder. The entire meeting of them all hadn't even amounted to 5 minutes. It was too fast for her to do anything, the adrenalin rushed through her body leaving her with a sense of foreign power. The sound of grunting and growling alerted her to the forgotten presence behind her and she returned her own snarl, angrily meeting it's gaze as the rumbles vibrated through her chest while she stared the dog-mutt down. There was only one creature standing in front of her, its bloodstained muzzle drawn back in a growl. Vaguely, Carrie recognised it. She saw the slight blemish on its forehead but she didn't stop her own vicious noises until it backed down and fell silent. She drew herself up to full height and let out another sharp growl before walking back to the mutilated body of Blaze. Her eyes dilated and her body shook with an unfamiliar emotion. She felt both on top of the world and utterly empty as her brain tried to process everything that had just happened.

"2 more down." She muttered as she wiped the blade of her dagger and returned it to the scabbard. "They'll be here soon." She mumbled, looking up at the sky briefly.

0o0o0

Finnick watched in awe as Carrie turned her back on the dog-mutt. It stood nearly to her shoulder and after the initial stand off, which she evidently won; the beast simply lowered itself to the ground and took to watching her move to each of the bodies. She stripped the body of Blaze of his boots to steal his socks and snatched his pack after patting down his body for anything hidden in his pockets. When she finished on him, Carrie moved over to Cable and her movements were more caring and respectful, she even stopped to close his eyes and roll him onto his back in a more dignified manner before taking the meagre contents of his pack and his socks too. In all this, Finnick observed her distinctly ignore the mutt standing in the middle of the bloodied scene. However when she was done with the bodies she dug through the pack that once belonged to Blaze and withdrew a charred chicken leg and hold it out to the animal, which scrutinized her for a moment before taking it gently into its mouth and swallowing it whole. With that done, Carrie set out in the opposite direction that the last two career tributes had run off in. The beast seemed to debate for a moment before trailing after her at a steady lope, occasionally grunting as it ran.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N:** Descriptive scenes of horror and gore in this chapter, if this is something you are sensitive to you may wish to skip this one. This story can only be written late at night again so I apologise for any mistakes or typos.

0o0o0o0

Haymitch stood beside Finnick as they both examined the screen on the wall to their left. As each tribute died during the game, their name would flash red and disappear leaving only a list of the surviving children and their ages. At the moment it read:

Tribute 0.

**Girl:** Carrie, 17

District 2. Masonry & Peacekeepers.

**Girl: **Katylyn, 15

**Boy: **Caiyn, 17

District 7. Lumber.

**Boy: **Max, 17

District 11. Agriculture.

**Boy: **Will, 17

"She'll have her work cut out for her. They're all a similar age and 3 of them are boys." Finnick murmured.

"I want to know why that mutt's being allowed to walk around after her along with Its 2 buddies. The girl has a small pack of killing machines on her side. The people can't be so stupid as to let that pass surely."

"They said it's something to do with her genetic makeup. For some reason the mutts don't recognize her as a tribute and so won't attack her."

Haymitch looked at Finnick with scepticism. "If you believe that then you're a fool. Her 'genetic makeup' didn't stop that human-mutt attacking her." He pointed out, taking a long swallow from a bottle.

"I'm not saying I believe it Hay, I'm simply saying that's what's getting said. The president if obviously allowing it though so for that we should be grateful." Finnick said, getting only a grunt in response from the other mentor.

"Heads up." Haymitch murmured whilst zooming their mentor camera in on the section of the arena Carrie was in.

The girl had her eyes narrowed and her form stilled, taking on a predatory stance. The 3 beasts behind her began to snarl until she growled deeply back at them. They fell silent but their hackles remained raised and their intelligent eyes concentrated on the patch of trees in front of them all. Carrie leapt up onto a log, keeping her steps light and raised onto the balls of her feet. She cocked her head to the side and a feral grin lit her face suddenly while she removed the dagger at her side with precision and confidence.

"Shit. She's snapped." Haymitch cursed. "You've got your angry tribute, boy. She won't back down from a fight while she's like this." Haymitch threw at Finnick. The younger man swallowed, remembering what he had said when he had first started training her.

The rustling leaves began to shake with more intensity and they watched helplessly as Carrie bounced eagerly on her feet. Her eyes lit up and as soon as the figure stepped into view she launched herself at it in a surprisingly graceful leap. It appeared to be a half-naked human-mutt with tanned skin and dark hair and though the female was about Carrie's height it had more muscle power, especially considering Carrie had been living on next to nothing. They watched as she scrapped with the, thankfully, weaponless humanoid. She was thrown over the other female's head and landed badly on her back. She let out a grunt of pain before rolling up and charging back at the woman, with murder in her eyes. The blade fell down swiftly, cutting into the woman's chest and slowing her movements. Bright red blood spurted out and spattered Carrie, though the girl took no notice of it. The growling of the dog-mutts behind the two fighting females distracted Carrie enough that the woman lashed out with her sharp nails and caught Carrie in the face, causing the tribute to cry out from the sting of it and fall back. Savage in her anger, Carrie struck out blindly and luck shone on her side when the blade embedded itself in the human-mutt's stomach. The engineered woman opened her eyes and mouth in an almost comical 'O' as Carrie twisted the blade for good measure before removing it.

"Surprisingly squishy." She said, the very picture of curiosity as the body fell to the ground, already dead. "Dinner's up boys." She grinned wildly at the dog-mutts. As soon as she stepped back, the animals fell on the body and began to feast upon it. She made to clean her face of blood but only managed to mingle her own with the dead woman's on her face. She shrugged to herself and sat down on the ground to clean her blade thoroughly with her top. "Come on, lets move." She commanded once she was done, standing and patting her leg. When they seemed reluctant to follow she merely lowered her gaze and glared at each of them. "Come." She said deeply. They trailed after her with no more argument as she hopped from root to root humming to herself softly for the rest of the day.

0o0o0

Carrie didn't know what had come over her, she felt like she had cracked; her thoughts had spun in dizzying circles after escaping from the career tributes. She recognized the leader of the three dogs that followed her around; he was her beloved Mutt. The mark on his head that she had often cooed over and stroked until she fell asleep was what had given him away. She took it in her stride when any of them tried to disobey her, snarling at them until they backed down, though she was sure Seneca was behind that. It was instinctual what she did and since it worked she didn't stop to question her actions where they were concerned. When the birds stopped singing and she heard the shaking leaves and feet moving it were as though like she snapped yet again. All she could think of was not to allow herself to be vulnerable again, not to let another person touch her like Blaze had tried to, not to be caught unawares. She drew her dagger silently and kept to the balls of her feet. There was no one left in the arena that would hesitate to kill her like Cable had. Cable was dead and his last act was to protect her, the thought spurned her on in the bitter guilt that ate at her. As soon as the figure came into view Carrie launched herself at it, barely even registering that it wasn't a tribute. All she knew was it was a threat to be taken out. The attack was clumsy and sloppy; the only saving grace was the fact that the human-mutt had no weapon. It came as a shock when the dagger drove into the flesh so easily; it was like slicing cheese. A strange feeling of detachment came over her and her she could practically feel her eyes harden and her back straighten. She had willingly killed for the first time ever and she couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. She was alive and that was what mattered. She had her Mutt: loyal friend and companion. She would make it out of this arena alive whatever it took. Of that she was now sure.

She hummed softly to herself, a random tune that belonged to only her really, as she leapt lightly from in a dance only she knew while the mutts followed behind like shadows. She carefully kept her tracks difficult to follow and she lay false trails until she was happy that she had found a place to sleep for the night.

"Bed time boys." She said softly, pulling out her pack and taking a sip of water and eating a few greens she had packed. "If you're hungry then you'll have to hunt for yourselves. Thanks for not eating me." she whispered, giving each a kiss on their bloodied muzzles and ruffling Mutt's fur in the place he liked. She sat down to begin her usual prayers when she noticed the lack of noise from the birds and her beasts whimpering slightly, backing up away from a shuffling noise to the left of their location. "No…not again…" Carrie whispered in terror, drawing her dagger shakily. "Not them again, anything but them…" her eyes darted around in horror when another set of shuffling feet made themselves heard and Cable came stumbling through, his eyes covered in a whitish film and his flesh showing the beginning signs of decomposing. "I didn't kill you. I didn't kill you Cable." Carrie whimpered, unable to move her feat in her fear.

The dogs' whining reached a higher pitch when the mauled figure of Blaze staggered into sight. Both of the dead boys groaned, staring at Carrie with their misty eyes and wounds that seeped black blood. "DON'T JUST STAND THERE!" Carrie shrieked at the dogs though it did no good. At her cries the two dead tribute-mutts began to emit their own unearthly screams that would have been heard anywhere in the vicinity, their mouths hung wide open unnaturally and their faces remained void of emotion. Carrie grabbed a stick in her free hand and tried to beat them back but the branch was ineffective against their approach. She fled to a nearby tree, sheathing her dagger and climbing its slippery surface. A hand grabbed her ankle and she struggled to kick it free, screaming unintelligibly until she began sobbing in relief when she succeeded. The dead tributes made no attempt to climb the tree but Carrie kept on climbing, their screams frightening her higher. As soon as she reached a 'V' in the tree to sit in, she looked down and just about saw the outlines of the dead tributes pointing up at her, unmoving as they continued screeching in undulating tones, not even needing to stop to draw breath. Full darkness fell and Carrie ignored the anthem and the death count, she knew two of them. The same ones standing below her tree, tormenting and haunting her. The dog mutts circled them all, whining and whimpering as Carrie cried through the night, never sleeping, never resting.

By the early morning light Carrie's throat was too abused to cry any longer, she saw the tribute-mutts standing in the same position they had been in the night before, the only difference being that they had rotted considerably and maggots and flies could be seen feasting on the flesh dangling in clumps. The screaming continued, as it had done since they'd started, and Carrie continued to rock herself precariously back and forth with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clamped over her ears. Bile rose up and she couldn't hold back the vomit that spewed forth. She shuddered when her cramped stomach finally finished emptying onto the ground below. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and the stench that rose from the decaying tribute-mutts was worst in the rising heat. The sun had fully risen when the deafening silence fell. Carrie jerked herself out of her trance-like state and spotted the fallen rotted corpses of the tribute-mutts. The dogs had stopped their whimpering and now lay sleeping. Carrie began to laugh; she couldn't help herself; she couldn't stop the manic laughter, laced with insanity, burst from her raw throat.

"They're gone. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone." She whispered, folding her arms around her torso and rocking herself again, sobbing into her knees.

It was a long time before she gingerly slid down the tree, carefully side stepping the rotted bodies. The backpack she had abandoned the night before was in the same place and she snatched it up, she didn't pause to check anything or do anything, she simply fled the area. Her eyes were frenzied as she slowed to a walk around mid-day, finally noticing that the dogs were shadowing her. She dropped to the ground without notice and they began to whine again, pawing at her gently and nuzzling her with tenderness. "I'm fine…I'm fine…I'm fine…I'm fine..." She repeated softly, creeping a hand out of the hold she had on herself to pat Mutt's muzzle as it began to rain.

0o0o0

The rain pelted down harder on Carrie as she sat there, absent-mindedly petting her Mutt. The strangely warm water fell from the heavens and the waxy leaves high overhead siphoned it down to the ground to successfully soak her to the skin. To the British-born girl it still felt bizarre being in the warm rain, almost like taking a walking shower, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. She lifted her head to check her surroundings and saw another tree-house. Having seen the fate of any tributes trying to climb the booby-trapped shelters, she felt no inclination to seek shelter from the rain up it. The image of Cable's acid-burnt hands sent a tremble down her spine. She had tried to help him but his hands had erupted in angry red blisters in seconds. She shuddered again at the memory of his brutal death, dying in an attempt to protect her with his damaged hands from the careers that found them. She growled in anger and in pain from the memory, making her faithful Mutt whine in sympathy while the rest of the pack growled and looked around for the cause of Carrie's distress.

Seneca watched with steepled hands under his chin at his workstation in the control room. The rain he was sending the arena was serving its purpose to cover Carrie's tracks yet again. Cable's death the previous day caused mixed feelings for the Head Game Maker. The brutality of it was regrettable on a personal level considering that the boy was defending Carrie, but it boosted ratings and ensured enough excitement for at least 24 hours. He was also willing to admit to himself that having Cable away from Carrie finally was a relief. It had been a close call with the careers getting so close to Carrie, and they had had to bring the mutts out to save her. He thought back to the previous night when the president had called him, 'requesting' more of the dead tribute-mutts to visit Carrie. Snow felt he was being generous enough on the girl for allowing the dog-mutts to stay with her and he didn't want her to get 'complacent'. Seneca obeyed, but stayed by the screen for every moment of the attack. He stayed awake with Carrie while she rocked herself keening to the gods to help her. He ordered Plutarch to bring him something to aid him to stay away and his second in command brought an injection with a substance many Capitol citizens used to stay awake for parties and long work shifts. Seneca had used it and was still awake when Carrie stopped running at midday. He had been awake for over 24 hours, but the guilt of what he'd had to subject Carrie to was eating away at him. At last, the girl fell asleep safe with her dog-mutts laying in a protective huddle around her. Seneca checked the locations of the remaining tributes, all seeking shelter from the rain in one way or another. As the drug began to wear off he went to his room to sleep, having left Plutarch with strict instructions to leave the rain falling and to wake him the moment the dog-mutts began to move.

"I don't care what happens, we need to keep an eye on those animals. I don't know what they might do in there; wake me at the slightest thing. Bring more of the drug too; I may not have time to sleep much until the games end this year. It is certainly an exciting one is it not?" He laughed in an attempt at humour, though it sounded only hollow to him.

"Of course Seneca, you can trust me. And yes, it certainly is a…memorable year." Plutarch replied; grasping the younger mans shoulder in a friendly gesture. The two parted ways, the pressure of what was yet to come weighing heavily on Seneca's shoulders. Sleep came fitfully, haunted with memories of Carrie's fear and the fear of failing her terrorizing him. The image of her lying dead in the arena woke him, drenched in sweat. Looking over at the clock on his bedside table he realized he had only had a little over 3 hours rest. Returning to sleep seemed impossible though and he headed for the shower instead, intent on at least looking more awake and composed than he felt.

Drawing a fortifying breath, Seneca re-entered the Control room with his usual air of superiority. Taking a quick inspection of the monitors he saw that nothing significant had changed in the time he had been gone and the rain was still pouring down on the tributes as per his instructions. Many had sought what shelter they could, and though they looked disgruntled and uncomfortable in the absolute wet they still took the chance to rest. With only 5 tributes left things could either speed up or slow down depending on what action the game makers took. Some of the ones that had survived this long would begin to make foolish mistakes in their increased fear and paranoia now that the games were winding down. The human-mutts served as more of a play on their fears than an actual threat; by simply knowing they were around the tributes were more skittish. Only 4 tributes had come across them in the time in the arena and they had all survived the encounters, some with wounds and some with none. The real fear-factor came with the tribute-mutts though, and they had been brought out mostly when the ratings in the show began to drop. Each dead tribute only made one appearance though, after that they were through. One had even indirectly killed a live tribute; the live-tribute had sustained a wound from the fight and infection had set in. It would have easily been treatable with the right medicine but she hadn't had enough sponsor money.

The ratings had gone up considerably because of the tribute-mutts Carrie had encountered the previous night and Seneca decided it wouldn't hurt for the tributes to have some down time. The action that had occurred in the last 48 hours was enough to keep the people satisfied for a short while. The rest that the tributes could now get would pay off; tired tributes made for easy kills, and at this stage in the game the citizens of the Capitol needed more than easy kills to satisfy their bloodthirsty desires. The Head Game Maker checked the tributes on each of his own private screens at his station, noting how far they were from each other and was satisfied that Carrie appeared to be far enough away. The dog-mutts were also doing a good job keeping her warm even if she wasn't dry.

"I wasn't expecting you to come back for a few more hours." Plutarch commented quietly, coming up behind him.

Seneca remained silent and the two men stayed with their own thoughts, both thinking of the same girl but for different reasons and in different scenarios.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N: **Wow, this was surprisingly difficult to write. I'm sorry for the long gap between updates but I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have the next few chapters planned out and hopefully (fingers crossed) it won't take so long for the next one.

0o0o0o0

It was time for the 73rd Hunger Games to wind down and come to an end until next year; it had already gone on for longer this year than any since the Hunger Games had started and the Capitol were becoming restless now. Seneca was both looking forward to the end, and incredibly nervous about the upcoming hours. Even with his intervention there was a strong possibility that Carrie would die. But an order from the President was an order that had to be followed, and so, with a heavy heart, Seneca Crane gave the instruction.

"Release the human muttations." He commanded to the control room at large. True to form they obeyed instantly and the Head Game Maker watched the live feed of each of the tributes, his eyes always darting back to Carrie to see her reaction to what was happening. Being the closest to the pyramid at the time, she was the first to start running. The engineered beings poured out of the central structure in droves, each shrieking and screaming their own war cry. Seneca watched as Carrie's eyes widened in fear when the sounds reached her, the animals of the forest were also in uproar to get away from the human-mutts. The birds were no longer silent in face of the danger, they were squawking loudly and making their own fear known. The dog-mutts that travelled with Carrie began to run while she tried to catch up with them. The group had a good mile-lead on the human-mutts but the attackers were spreading out in search of the remaining tributes and Carrie's speed would only get her so far; if she ran into a group of them before the other tributes died then she would be killed. There was no way Seneca could help her at that point. Her saving grace was when her own Mutt slowed, ignoring his primal instincts telling him to flee, to allow Carrie to catch up and without a second thought she vaulted onto his back and leant forwards, grabbing onto the fur and the scruff of his neck in an attempt to stay on when he bolted as fast as he could away from the human muttations. They other two members of the small pack had scattered, leaving the two companions alone in their flight for safety.

One by one the remaining tributes heard the commotion and scattered once they realised what was happening. Seneca watched as the boy from 11 fell to a group of human mutations 10 minutes after they had been released. He ran right into them and before he could turn to escape they had swarmed around and efficiently gutted him. It was as painless as it got in the arena being that it was a quick death. Once finished they whooped and shrieked incoherently, continuing their bloodthirsty hunt.

Carrie pushed Mutt harder urging him forwards as she looked around in search of danger. More than once she saw the flash of tinted flesh or faces amongst the leaves, but each time Mutt darted to the side and evaded them, almost unseating her in the process. His bulky body and uneven pace was difficult enough for her to stay on but by some miracle she kept her balance. At the back of his mind, Seneca remembered her telling him how she used to ride horses and how she learned to keep her balance since the ones she rode bolted so often. He kept his face carefully blank as he watched the live feed in front of him. It felt like he was doing that far too often nowadays; schooling his features instead of having them come naturally as they had in the past.

He saw the fearful look on Mutt's face; the whites of his eyes showing while he frothed at the mouth from exertion. He had been programmed to protect Carrie with his life; his only mission was to get her to safety. When compared to the three remaining tributes, the human muttations were overwhelming in number and though they only lived for a few hours once activated it was plenty of time for them to finish their own mission; to kill the tributes until the chip in them was deactivated.

Half an hour had passed when Carrie and Mutt met danger head on. The boy from district 7 was in front of them and throwing his axe before Carrie could react. Seneca watched Mutt twist his body at the last minute, saving Carrie from being hit but taking the blow himself. The beast stumbled and the girl fell as they went down. She rolled and recovered well, leaping to her feet. Seneca saw the instant that she realized what had happened; the camera panned in and documented her expression when her eyes fell on the axe buried in Mutt's neck. Her eyed widened and she uttered a soft "No…" in disbelief. She turned her gaze on the boy who was quickly recovering from the sight of the huge beast he had felled and was stalking towards the animal in order to retrieve his bloodied weapon that he'd buried in the animal. "Get away from him." Carrie growled. When the boy simply smirked at her, she let out a strangled and inhuman scream and withdrew her dagger as she charged towards him, her eyes blazing with a venomous promise of revenge that sent a shiver down even Seneca's spine as he watched. She beat the boy to Mutt and with an impressive roundhouse kick to his sternum, sent him flying backwards away from her fallen companion. A low whine from the animal distracted Carrie momentarily, enabling the boy to get back up before she could attack again.

"Hold the human muttations; keep them away from the pair." Seneca barked when he noticed a group of them heading in that direction.

"Yes sir." One of the controllers replied, swiping a series of buttons at his station and giving Carrie and 7 the freedom to fight one-on-one without being interrupted.

Carrie recovered from the distraction quickly and crouched into a tackle position just in time for the boy to run into her shoulder, effectively winding himself since he wasn't expecting her to catch him. She brought her blade up and managed to get in a cut to his leg that, though non-lethal, was enough for him to favour his other leg. They released one another from the grapple and Carrie swiftly brought the dagger up again. 7 jumped out of the way before she could get him again though, and he realized going on the offensive without his weapon would not work. Instead he attempted a hasty retreat towards his axe.

"No! Get away from him!" Carrie screamed again, flinging her body towards the boy and driving the blade into his back. He fell and she continued her frenzied attack, slashing blindly. The boy fell bleeding to the floor. Not until his legs were disabled did Carrie stop and stagger to Mutt who lay struggling for breath only feet away. Bloody foam coated his muzzle and his limbs twitched weakly in a futile effort to stand. Tears flowed freely from Carrie's eyes as she knelt beside the animal.

"Mutt, oh my poor baby boy…" she whispered hoarsely. He whined in return, his eyes closing in defeat as she tenderly placed a hand on his cheek. "My poor baby boy." She sobbed, resting her forehead against his. One last breath shuddered through him before he lay still, his pain finally at an end. "No, no, no! You can't die. You can't leave me." Carrie implored in vain. Her cries trailed off into a mournful howl that echoed through the jungle.

"Give her two minutes and then have the human muttations corral the remaining tributes towards each other. Terminate the attack-to-kill command chip in them." Seneca ordered, his heart clenching painfully in sympathy for the girl that had gained his affections.

Carrie didn't have long to mourn the death of her friend as allotted rest time passed quickly and Seneca once again found himself watching her flee for safety as a hoard of murderous creatures chased her. In was a close time several times and more than once Seneca held his breath, glad to have removed the kill-command from them. Viewing ratings were sky-high from the Capital populace as was common in the end hours of the games each year. More bets were placed amongst the citizens and preparations made for the tribute that would emerge Victor in a short amount of time. The Head Game Maker was both repulsed and glued to the images streaming in his view this year. Gone was the thrill and rush of excitement that used to run through his veins, in its place was the all consuming fear for not only the girl he watched but for his own life; the next battle would either make or kill him, for he was sure he would pay heavily if the wrong tribute won. President Snow had sent him several messages of instruction over the last few weeks and the message in them was crystal clear each and every time.

The human muttations did their job well and the viewers didn't have to wait long until the remaining three tributes were facing each other. Seneca gave the order for the muttations to be drawn back so that all eyes would be on the upcoming fight. Luck once again sided with Carrie when the career tributes, being closest to one another, spotted each other first and ignored her in order to fight each other. The yearning to run away was clear on Carrie's face but in the end she joined the fray, darting forwards and managing to slice the boy in the face, blinding him in one eye with his own blood. Unfortunately that drew attention to her and he swiped back with the pole end of his spear, knocking her to floor. She rolled with the blow and was back up on her feet, getting back at them and slashing in any direction she could. It was a mad tangle of limbs and weapons, cries of pain and anger and desperation drowning out anything else. The female career tribute fell into a bloody pile. Who the death-kill belonged to would need to be determined at a later time by reviewing the footage. For the time being though all attention was being paid to Carrie and Caiyn, both of whom were already heavily wounded. Staying close to his body so that Caiyn would be unable to stab her with his spear, she dove at him again only to have her advance knocked aside with a wave of an arm. She stumbled and somehow managed to grab a hold of him and pull him down with her. It was terrifying to watch and try as he might, Seneca could not clearly make out what was going on. There was a stab and a thrust, a cry of pain, a parry with the pole of the spear, another cry of pain and more stabbing and rolling around as the two remaining tributes tried to one-up each other. Caiyn grabbed Carrie by her hair with one hand and gripped her throat with the other. In bid to free herself Carrie brought the dagger up and cut his wrist as she yanked the blade through her own hair. She fell to the floor and they resumed their battle.

Finally, they both lay panting, feet apart and too injured to continue. A worrying gurgling noise emanated from Carrie and she removed her hands from her abdomen to reveal a gory wound, pumping out blood at an alarming rate. Her muffled groans hit Seneca to the core when she replaced the hands to staunch the flow and rolled her head to the side, clenching her eyes shut against the obvious agony. Caiyn was in no better state; bloodied and with gruesome cuts covering his body, the boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head. The camera panned in on him, revealing a particularly dark stain spreading from his chest. Neither tribute…neither child, had it in them to fight any more. It was simply a matter of waiting for one to die and Seneca did not feel in the slightest bit guilty for praying for it to be the boy. Not minutes later the final canon sounded and Seneca breathed a soft sigh of relief when he saw Carrie's chest continue its struggle to rise and fall in its unsteady rhythm. He spoke into the microphone and declared her Victor of the 73rd Hunger Games before the deafening cheer of the crowd was fed into the arena for Carrie to hear. A grim smile tugged at her lips before her face fell slack and her limbs fell limp. The hovercraft that picked her up held her body in stasis but did nothing for the blood she was losing.

0o0o0

Dull pain tugged Carrie into semi-consciousness and she fought against the desire to open her eyes. A brief thought bleakly crossed her mind that she had hoped she had met Death; that perhaps the suffering was at an end. Her heart felt heavy when she thought of Mutt and how he had died protecting her, all for nothing if she was dieing now. A strange leaden sensation entered her arm when she tried to move and darkness swiftly consumed her again.

Her dreams, grey and fuzzy images, brought both comfort and guilt. She saw her family again and ran towards her brother, letting him swing her around.

"I miss you little sister." He murmured into her ear.

"I'm home now, I'm right here." She answered, confused by his words. She gestured to their house in the background before going and greeting her parents.

"This isn't your home now sweetie." Her father smiled sadly, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

"It's time you let us go." Her mother whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Carrie closed her eyes and began to shake her head, disagreeing with them forcefully while trying to hold the pain that was returning, at bay. Dragging her eyes open she saw now a bright light with shadows moving above her. A whimper escaped her lips when something prodded her stomach and she closed her eyes again trying to make out the words the shadows seemed to be saying. Her head thumped painfully and her whole body hurt. She mumbled something incoherent, trying to get them to leave her alone and let her die in peace. A low snort piqued her curiosity and she felt a gentle pressure on her head, like a hand of something. Confusion washed over her before her arm went numb again and she fell blissfully and dreamlessly asleep.

0o0o0

"It was a close one. We almost lost her." A male voice to her left that she couldn't quite place woke Carrie with a start. Any remnants of pain were gone and she sat bolt upright on the bed and rolled off of it towards the voice and lashing out with her hands to defend herself and grab at the person. Another hand made to hold her though, stalling her movements and sending a stronger buzz of panic through her. "Leave her boy." The same gruff voice sounded. Her hands continued their trajectory and found his throat before recognition flickered through her mind. Haymitch; drunken and bad-tempered Haymitch who, for all his faults, had not hurt her before the arena. The moment dragged by and seconds felt like eternity as she took in her surroundings. She was in a room and not on the jungle floor. Haymitch was looking at her solemnly but made no move to get away from the now-slack hands around his neck. Finnick stood to their right, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets of his trousers in an obviously non-threatening stance. Cinna stood to their left, the fact that it was his hands half raised informing her that it was he who had tried to stop her attack. Her nostrils flared and she stiffly brought her own hands back down, automatically going to her hip in search of the dagger.

"You don't have it anymore." Finnick said calmly, obviously knowing what she was looking for. She ignored him and kept up her examination of the room and continued to twist around checking the entire room until she deemed it safe and she verified that she truly was out of the arena. She looked down at her body, grateful for the clean bra and panties, and saw her newly fixed stomach. She ran a hand over the smooth skin and cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "Capitol surgeons are the best. They did a body-polish on you too so there are no physical scars." Finnick said quietly, subdued. Carrie noted the subtle emphasis on 'physical'. All she could reply with was a hollow "What day is it?" Her voice was not as hoarse as she was expecting after all the screaming that had happening in the last few hours of the arena.

"Wednesday morning. You've been out of the arena for a little over 2 days. You'll need to be ready for the post-games interview for tonight."

The girl nodded and said nothing, her face a blank mask. It tore at Cinna's heart when he remembered how expressive she used to be and how the old Carrie would have instantly leapt at one of them for a hug. He had been warned that she would be different and understood her standoffish behaviour but it was upsetting to witness nonetheless. "Do you have anymore questions?" He asked gently, making a move to step forwards. Her body instantly stiffened and she leant away from him, stopping his advance. Hurt coloured his face and shame shone on hers, prompting a few stray tears to fall.

"I'm sorry." She whispered ducking her head and letting her newly shortened hair flop forwards.

"We understand Carrie. We're here for you whenever you want us." The stylist smiled, raising a hand slowly in offering for her. She met his gaze unsteadily and slowly brought her own arm up to hold the proffered hand. A tremble of residual fear shuddered through her body but she forced her feet forwards until she was beside his body and allowing him to hold her properly. "You do need to let me do something about your hair though." He gently teased once the tender moment had passed and she had relaxed into his embrace. He saw her grimace as she ran her hand through the cropped choppy strands.

"I guess this'll take a while to grow out again huh?"

"Yes, but until then we can get a wig made for you if you want?"

He looked mildly affronted when she stifled a giggle and shook her head, but all the men was relieved that she wasn't looking so much like a startled rabbit anymore…or a creature ready to attack them at a moments notice. The two older Victors understood what she was going through and were glad that she was taking it better than some tributes had. They had all been fully prepared to inject her with a sedative if she got too overwhelmed. It was a unanimous decision for them all be there to show her friendly faces instead of just one person. Getting Seneca in would have been more difficult and her reunion with him would have to wait until they were in an un-bugged room and when the press wasn't swarmed around the building taking photographs of every person that entered or exited. Haymitch had also pointed out that the Head Game Maker would probably not be the best person for a newly woken Victor to see.

"Can I have something to eat please?" Carrie spoke up softly, interrupting the brief quiet that had fallen on the room. For Haymitch it was odd to see the girl that had moments before tried to strangle him, and whom they had watched go on a fighting frenzy just two days previously, calmly and politely making her request. It was not unusual for personalities to be irreparably altered after being in the Arena, however it looked like the 'old Carrie' was still intact, albeit slightly damaged and with a hardened tint to her eyes that was visible to those who looked hard enough.

"You can have a small bowl of pasta and some bread. Nothing more or you'll be ill." Haymitch grunted in his typical crotchety manner.

"I see you haven't changed much." She snarked, though gratefully accepted the tray he passed her when and Avox entered and set it down.

"You'll get no special treatment from me just because you're in the V.I.P club now, girly." Haymitch sneered, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. Carrie rolled her eyes as she hopped back up on her bed to eat as the three men watched from their seats.

"Shouldn't that be V.I.V?" She asked, swallowing a mouthful of bread and taking a long swallow of the orange juice on her tray. "Y'know…Very Important Victor? …Oh come on that's an obvious one." She clarified to his blank face. "Dolt." She muttered, tossing a small piece of crust at him and smirking.

"Just eat your food." He said, failing to hide his small smile at her antics. No matter what she had been through in the previous weeks, she was still the same girl. The Arena hadn't broken her completely, however the real tests were yet to come.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N: **There are going to be flashbacks in this chapter, they will be in italics so you can recognise them. Carrie is having her usual mood swings too.Thank you for all the reviews and enjoy

0o0o0o0

Carrie tensely sat in her seat on stage next to Caesar Flickerman, a person whom she was quickly beginning to, perhaps irrationally, despise. He was present when she declared herself a volunteer tribute, he was present for the interviews during training, and now he was showing her several hours worth of footage from her time as tribute. She managed to sit through the first part of it – before she entered the arena – but now they were at the part when she first discovered the pyramid and was exploring it. She knew what would come next – the other tribute's death that she had inadvertently caused. She forced her eyes to remain open and watch the screen but tried to shut her conscious mind down, to instead go back to a few hours previously when she had finished her tiny meal in the room she had woken up in

"_How long until I have to get ready for the ceremony then?" She finally asked once she had finished her small portion of food, having ignored her company while she ate. _

"_You have a few hours before we need to prepare you. You have time to relax in a bath if you like. You had most of the skin preparations when they did the body polish so you don't need waxing anymore." Cinna promptly answered. Carrie frowned lightly and looked down at her body, examining it in detail and running her fingers along each point that used to have a scar or blemish. The frown deepened as she brought her hands up to her covered chest as though weighing her breasts before levelling a glare at the three men. _

"_What happened?" She hissed. "Why am I at least a cup size bigger than when I went in?" _

"_We tried to argue…truly. Haymitch was having a fit at the surgeons. In the end a higher order came through and we had no choice. We managed to keep you just within a B cup but you had to have the operation Carrie." Finnick explained. "A lot of Victors have it done, you got off lightly. Normally they would be much…ahem…larger." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. The girl rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. _

"_Anything else I should know about? Are all my fingers and toes in place?" she asked sarcastically, though she did glance down to check for herself while they answered…_

Tears were threatening to well up in Carrie's eyes as the screen flickered with the trap she had employed using the poisoned animal she had found. She felt guilt over every death, those she had caused and those she hadn't, and seeing the deceased tributes up on screen laughing and so childishly sure of themselves, forced a lump to her throat. She swallowed back, willing herself to remember her friends and the support and comfort they gave her, despite the fact she was now a murderer.

…"_That's all that they altered Carrie, don't worry. Come on, do you want that bath?" Cinna held his hand out for her again and led her from the room. "Normally Victors are in more of a hurry to get ready seeing as they wake up in the afternoon. You threw off the sedative much quicker though so you have some time to spare. We nearly lost you a few times as you reacted badly to the treatment, it was a bad wound you had."_

"_I had a hole in me. Of course it was bad." She snarked moodily and continued to check their surroundings while they walked. They took the elevator to a room that housed a bath large enough for several people. She found she had no fear of the elevator rides anymore, silently supposing to herself that she had seen worst things to be afraid of. They arrived at another room and she stayed silent while the bath filled with water, grateful that Cinna tactfully made no attempt at conversation when she so obviously didn't want it. She scouted the room out and glared at the door as though it had offended her, all because there was no lock. _

"_All done. I'll come back in an hour so you have a chance to lie back and relax. There are towels in that cupboard there when you need them." Cinna quietly told her when the bath was filled. He made to leave, when Carrie spoke up. _

"_Stay!" She frowned and felt her face tinge pink. "I mean…will you please stay? If you don't have anything better to do or anything. If you don't mind. I mean…" she stuttered over the words after her initial outburst and looked up, biting her lip nervously. "I don't want to be on my own." She admitted in a whisper, tears welling up in her eyes. _

"_I'll stay. It's alright Carrie." Cinna said softly, slowly reaching a hand out to rub one of the arms she had wrapped around her torso. He respectfully turned his back while she undressed, until he heard the water slosh when she climbed in. _

"_You can turn back around now." The young Victor murmured, making sure the scented bubbled covered her body. She nervously swallowed several times and her eyes darted around before she let out a breath. "I'm sorry I keep blowing hot and cold." She apologised to the man now sitting on the floor, beside the bath. He was a little lower than her but was close enough to reach his hand up, grasping hers that lay on the side of the tub. _

"_I understand Carrie. I know I haven't been through what you have but I am still your friend I hope. I'm here for you, we all are." He smiled. "It's alright to be afraid…" _

Caesar was looking at her with giddy excitement and she plastered a brighter smile on for him and the audience. They had gone through a good chunk of her arena time and were now at the part where her she was stuck up a tree hiding from the tribute muttations. It skipped the part where she was screaming hysterically and the sound was somewhat muted so that it simply looked like she was waiting the night out. She suppressed a shudder and forced her mind back again while keeping her eyes on the screen.

After the bath, the two returned to the room she had woken in and Cinna pulled out a dress bag while Finnick and Haymitch disappeared to meet their own prep teams, leaving Carrie with her stylist. Cinna helped her dry and groom and she sat patiently while he did her hair and makeup. He ignored the tension in her muscles and moved at a gentle speed when she flinched at sudden movements. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, taking in her still hollowed cheeks from weeks of hunger and she frowned slightly, touching the reflection. "I don't recognise myself." She murmured, not just talking about her physical appearance. He drew her into a comforting hug and manoeuvred her away from the mirror.

_He tried his hardest to soothe some of her worries and once she was fully dressed he sat with her quietly. The dress made her look her true age instead of older or younger and he had given her more of a Capitol style makeup. He didn't suggest a look and she didn't ask. Instead she sat with her head bowed, tightly holding onto his hands until he spoke again._

"_It's time to go." Cinna murmured, brushing his fingers along her cheek to get her to raise her head. She nodded and let out a strained breath. _

"_I'll see you afterwards?" she asked nervously._

"_Of course." He replied, bending down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. They travelled in silence the rest of the way and Finnick led Carrie into an artificially lit underground room. Her eyes widened when she realised she was on a plate much like the one that took her into the arena and her breathing increased in fear until she felt Finnick step up behind her and rest a hand on her shoulder. "You'll see me up there, you'll arrive on stage and Caesar will lead you to the chair. You'll see me on stage nearby I promise. You're safe now." He said quietly. "I have to go now, I'll meet you after." He walked away from her and Carrie listened to the muffled voice of Caesar as he introduced Finnick and Cinna to the audience. She cringed when he began making her introductions and the ceiling above the plate she stood on began to open up whilst the floor she stood on rose. The noise was deafening and the light was blinding._

Her recollections brought her up to the present and she saw her beloved Mutt on screen. Mutt had died protecting her. The fixed smile fell from her face when the lump hardened painfully in her throat as she held back the well of emotion that threatened to overwhelm. Try as she might she couldn't distract her mind or avert her eyes from the sickening images. It was like she was an outsider looking in, she hardly recognised herself with the feral expression when she attacked the boy. She still felt the justice in killing him since he had killed her companion but guilt niggled inside, struggling to the surface.

She sat with ramrod straight back and obediently watched the end footage; Her dispatching of the boy, a flash of her running through the forest and looking back over her shoulder at the human muttations occasionally, her running into the last two career tributes and the fight that ensued. The camera was constantly glued to her face and the entire story the film portrayed was that of a frightened girl overcoming her fears and differences, using her wiles and luck to get to where she was currently sitting in the Victor chair. They cut out most of her breakdowns and flashed her face looking determined and unwavering in her quest. She had to give it to them, she thought humourlessly; they knew how to make people look good when they wanted. Most of what she remembered in the arena was screaming or sobbing and the immense effort it took most days just to put one foot in front of the other. Whoever had cut the film made her actually look like she knew what she was doing.

Finally her grim almost-death played out and a large portion of the audience sobbed dramatically into their hands. Why they were sobbing she had no idea since **she** was the one who almost died. It did look rather gory though, in fact she was almost certain she saw inside her body when the camera tilted at a certain angle. The blood-loss was rather frightening too and it was easy to see that she would have died shortly after had the hovercraft not arrived. But other than morbid fascination she felt nothing at seeing her near lifeless body on screen. Perhaps she detected a slight flicker of disappointment in the back of her mind that the spear hadn't done its job properly but she pushed that feeling aside for analysis later. They continued for another minute showing surgeons bending over her and the movie finished with her gasping awake and sitting upright. She didn't remember that, and she knew it must be before she tried to throttle Haymitch. The lights brightened on stage and spotlights once again shone on her and Caesar.

"Well, well, well, that was certainly an adventure wasn't it Carrie my dear!" he exclaimed, his trademark white teeth gleaming.

"Definitely." She smiled tightly, unsure what the correct response was to a statement like that.

"What would you say was the most memorable thing for you in the arena? I know there are a lot of moments for me from watching that."

"The wet. I don't think there was a day when my clothes were fully dry." Carrie replied slowly, picking a safe topic. Her interrogator, as she had dubbed him in her head, laughed gaily as though she had said something funny. She had forgotten how permanently buoyant he was.

"Well I would say you did well for yourself in there despite the rain and humidity. And those dog muttations! My that was a stroke of luck! Do you know why they didn't attack you?"

"No, I don't know."

"Well it's because you're a very special young lady Carrie!" Caesar said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "They didn't attack because they recognized you were different from the other tributes. But they didn't help much from the dead tribute muttations did they?" he winked and Carrie gulped, shaking her head agreement.

"No, but the tree sure did." She whispered and the crowd roared in laughter again.

0o0o0

"Get out. Leave me." Carrie gasped, staggering into the bedroom in her tribute apartment after the interview. Ripping the crown from her head and throwing it down on the floor.

"Carrie…" Finnick started forwards to support her shaking body.

"I said leave!" she screamed into his face, fat tears threatening to fall from her eyes. He took a step back and she continued her unsteady path to her bed, shedding the dress and letting it fall to the floor on the way. Her three friends watched from the doorway as she clutched at her stomach, sobbing and dry heaving on her bed in the dark bedroom, each of them wise enough to leave her too it.

"Get Crane." Haymitch advised Finnick gruffly after shutting the door on the sight of their new fellow Victor.

"I'm not sure he'll be the best person for her to see right now Haymitch." Finnick countered carefully, looking back at the door. "You know it's tough for Victors fresh from the Arena, she just needs some time."

"Is that really what you think? She's got to meet him some time. He already wants to see her and it's better here out of the way of cameras and audio bugs than somewhere her breakdown can be recorded. You may not be new to this game boy but you've still got a lot to learn on some fronts. Get. Crane. Now." The older mentor ground out. Finnick clenched his teeth, looking on the verge of punching the other man, but pulled his phone out and dialled Seneca. A quick call later and the Head Game Maker was on his way.

"She's going to freak out." Finnick warned, pouring himself a healthy portion of whiskey and sitting back in the living room, the other two men following suite.

"It's better it happens all at once then. She'll be in the limelight for a long time to come and it would be bad for her to breakdown in view of the public." Cinna sagely added his opinion on the matter. The three men fell into silence as they waited for the last member of their strange group to arrive. Carrie's sobs were heard even through the door and the sound of smashing sounded out occasionally as she destroyed objects in there. Half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door of the apartment.

Cinna, being on the friendliest terms with Seneca and seeing that they had ordered the Avoxes from the room, stood and answered the door to the impeccably dressed Seneca.

"How is she?" He asked quietly, his question answered by the crash echoing from Carrie's bedroom.

"She shut herself in there as soon as we got back. The footage, the interview, being crowned; it was too overwhelming for her. Haymitch suggested getting you to meet her now while you've both got some level of privacy."

"Does she even want to see me after everything that has happened?"

"Only one way to find out." Cinna said clapping the other man on the shoulder in a friendly show of support. He dropped his hand and stood aside, motioning for the usually self-sure man to go ahead. Taking a fortifying breath and ignoring the other occupants of the apartment, Seneca straightened his back and strode purposefully to Carrie's bedroom door, pushing it open without knocking. The three other men watched him slip in and close the door behind him. The following screams and accusations had them wincing in sympathy for Seneca despite the terrible acts he had committed before Carrie unknowingly turned his character around. Haymitch and Finnick knew how much he had changed, especially considering several conversations with the man whilst the girl was in the arena; he had been more than willing to turn traitor to the Capitol and was now a valuable spy for the Rebels in District 13. It was agreed that Carrie remain oblivious to the rebellion, and so by default this tidbit of information. Haymitch and Finnick had by no means forgiven Seneca but he was certainly redeeming himself.

"We should give them some privacy." Cinna winced when a particularly loud screech reached their ears.

"We can't leave the building." Haymitch pointed out.

"Another floor. I have my design studio we can go to. It has a refreshments table too." Cinna replied to the drunk Victor, who tilted his head to one side before agreeing surprisingly amicably.

0o0o0

"You left me in there! You set those monsters on my and did nothing to help! What the fuck do you think that was like?" Carrie screamed, hurling a remote control at Seneca who ducked out of the way at the last second.

"I had to play the part Carrie and I hate that it hurt you. I understand you are upset and may not trust me right now but I still care deeply for you. That has not changed." The man replied calmly which only served to infuriate the girl more. She paced the other side of the bed, glaring at him like a caged animal.

"He died Seneca, Mutt died and you did nothing to stop it." She spat out.

"There was nothing I could do Carrie. I am not responsible for that, you got your revenge on the one who killed him."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH." She screeched, more tears falling from her eyes and blurring her vision further. "That won't bring him back. Nothing will bring him back. I wish he'd never gone in there, I wish you'd have just let me die."

"Don't say that Carrie. Never say that." Seneca pleaded, taking a few steps around the bed towards her and reaching out his arms.

"Don't touch me. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you I hate you." She shouted, batting his hands away. It did nothing to deter him and she broke down in unintelligible sobs, giving up her battle to escape his arms and sinking to the floor while being held close to his chest.

"I know." He whispered brokenly, holding her tighter and burying his face in her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun. 

0o0o0o0

Seneca held Carrie's warm body close to his and gently lifted her to the bed, carefully avoiding stepping on the shattered pieces of what used to be a vase and the broken remains of the bedside lamp. She curled her body in on itself and he lay down behind her, pressing himself to her back while rubbing his nimble fingers in soothing circles on her arm. The silence in the room was peaceful since she has calmed down and he relished the chance to hold her again after the stressful weeks of separation. Her breathing was even but too shallow to signify sleep despite the fact that her puffy eyes remained closed from crying. He didn't dare disturb the quiet by speaking, and he was for once at a loss as to what would be appropriate to say. In his curled up position Seneca noticed a single vibrant orange rose lying forgotten on the floor near the window. Faint wet red glistened on the stem and, shocked, Seneca reached down for Carrie's hand to check it for damage. Sure enough she had cut it on the rose thorns and the crimson pooled up in her palms at the movement. He choked back a sob and pressed a kiss to the fresh wound. The overwhelming feeling that he wouldn't be able to protect her from the President's interest was suffocating.

"What does orange mean?" Carrie asked, her hoarse voice dead of emotion.

"Passion. Enthusiasm. Desire." He reluctantly answered slowly, pulling her closer to him at the implications of Snow handing her a rose of such colour, for it had surely been from the President. "When did he give it to you?"

"Just after crowning me. When the crowd wouldn't be able to see…" She fell quiet again, recalling the look in Snow's eyes that she had been unable to identify. Now she could; it had been desire. It had been triumph. It sent a shiver down her spine and she rolled over, pressing her face into Seneca's chest and inhaling his familiar scent. She didn't know how to feel anymore about this man in whose arms she rested again. She was undeniably still drawn to him and still found comfort in his embrace, but the pain and humiliation of the arena was still too fresh. Despite the fact that she logically knew he had had to do his job, and that despite that he had certainly saved her more times that she knew by his meddling, she couldn't find it in her heart to forgive him yet. The faces of the dead tributes floated to the forefront of her mind again and she squeezed her eyes shut, knotting Seneca's shirt in her fists as though afraid he might disappear. "Don't leave me." She begged, so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"I won't, not for as long as you want me." He murmured, wrapping one arm more securely around her waist and holding the back of her head with the other to stroke her hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and they stayed like that until they drifted off to sleep.

Seneca had not been asleep for long before a loud wailing roused him. Startled, his eyes shot open and he found Carrie still fast asleep in his arms but the noise was definitely coming from her. Wet tears made their way down her cheeks and the undulating cried she made were greatly disturbing.

"Carrie. Carrie wake-up, My Sweet." He whispered urgently. Her eyes opened, glazed over and almost certainly unseeing. "Carrie, look at me." He ran a hand down the side of her face as the cries stopped and her eyes slowly gained focus as she came to. A sob tore its way roughly from her throat when she recognised where she was and she burrowed herself deeper against Seneca. "It's ok My Sweet, it's ok I'm here." He murmured, rocking her gently. He had been warned about her having such nightmares, but it was frightening to see her come back from one. Her entire body was shaking and the bedroom was filled with the sounds of her cries.

"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me." She begged, gripping his shirt in one hand and raising the other to hold onto the hair at the base of his neck. He winced at the pressure and bent his head lower, offering himself some release from the pain of her grip and offering her the comfort the closeness brought.

"I'm not going anywhere Carrie. I'm staying right here with you." He assured her, running his hands up and down her back in an attempt to calm her erratic breathing.

"I thought I was still in there." She sobbed, gulping for air.

"I know. I know. You're back now though, you're safe with me." He whispered, cradling her head and forcing her to look at him. He pressed small kisses over her face and, slowly, she calmed down, nuzzling his neck with a tired sigh. He relaxed his tense muscles and entwined their legs together, her breathing evening out until she fell back asleep.

0o0o0

"How'd you sleep last night kid?" Finnick enquired over breakfast the next morning when Carrie and Seneca joined the other 3 at the breakfast table. She shrugged glumly in reply and refused to make eye contact with anyone as she started piling food onto her plate with one hand, refusing to let go of Seneca's hand with her other. The poor man was left trying to cut his food and eat it with one hand, rather unsuccessfully.

"Today you will be moved into a Capitol house, much like if you were a Victor returning to your district. There will be reporters following your movements so I have a dress made for you in preparation. We'll start on makeup after you've finished breakfast." Cinna filled in some of the uncomfortable silence after a few minutes. Carrie stopped chewing the toast she had and swallowed it with a faint grimace before putting it down and nodding.

"I'm done now." She said quietly, pushing away from her seat and releasing Seneca's hand.

"You've hardly eaten anything…" Seneca said reproachfully.

"I said I'm done." The girl replied with a hard voice and eyes like steel. "I'll be in my room. I'm going to shower." She informed the men curtly.

"That could have gone better…" The head game maker sighed, managing his food more easily with both hands.

"It also could have gone worst. She could have flipped and stabbed you for your comment." Haymitch pointed out.

"Over food? I was only saying she hadn't eaten much."

The blonde man shrugged half-heartedly. "It's happened before. A Victor tried to kill their escort and had to be held back by Peacekeepers."

"Johanna?" Finnick asked curiously.

"Of course." Conversation halted again and the only sounds that filled the apartment were the scrapes of cutlery on china and the soft sobs heard over the shower in Carrie's room.

"I'll leave you gentlemen to it I think. Finnick, will you be part of the group when Carrie is moving in?" Cinna asked once the uncomfortable meal was finished.

"Yup. Her house will be next to the one I have when I have long stays in the Capitol. Shout if she needs restraining." The district 4 man grinned mischievously at the retreating stylist.

"Is she honestly that dangerous?" Seneca asked with uncertainty.

"It's early days yet. She's still essentially the Carrie that went into the arena, but her bloodlust is likely to be higher now. She could be the kind of Victor that will have to be sedated, just to be kept calm in the presence of Capitol crowds, or she may learn to deal with it herself without violent outbursts when she feels threatened. We'll have to keep her away from morphling though; there's always a high risk of Victors becoming addicted to the stuff once they get a feel of its effects."

"It doesn't sound like she's the same Carrie to me. The Carrie I knew hated the idea of hurting people." Seneca frowned.

"She's still the same, trust me. This will simply be a defence mechanism. If she were to be able to live in secluded surroundings and be kept out of the public eye I suspect she would revert back to how she used to be. She would recover much quicker. The same goes for a lot of Victors."

"Well that's not going to happen." Seneca murmured darkly.

"She'll be fine. Just stand by her and be there for her like you were last night. She'll need you more in those hours to keep the nightmares at bay." Finnick advised, sympathising for the older man.

0o0o0

"All done sweetie." Cinna whispered in Carrie's ear, encouraging her to open her eyes. They fluttered open and she looked in surprise at her reflection in the mirror. She was definitely 'Capitol' as Cinna had promised she would need to look more often now, but it still felt like she was herself. "This is what a lot of Capitol women wear as stay-at-home partners. I was thinking it would be a good image for you. What do you think?"

"Oh Cinna I love it." Carrie gushed, twirling round and looking at every detail of the floral dress he had made. It had a simple sweetheart neckline and the half-length loose sleeves and knee length skirt hemline would help her keep cool in the warmer weather. The heels were a tad high to be doing actual housework but lengthened her legs in a flattering way. Her waist was cinched with a belt giving her the perfect hourglass figure she had never been able to achieve before on her own.

"Will this actually stay on?" She asked with a flicker of uncertainty as she carefully brushed her fingers over the wig that gave her the appearance of more hair than she actually had now. It was nowhere near as garish and over-the-top as many wigs in the Capitol, but it gave her a perfectly curled 'up-do' that did even more to flatter her figure, much as she never would have believed before seeing it.

"Yes, I have secured it well. Do you take back your doubt at the idea of a wig now?" Cinna asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Carrie poked her tongue out childishly before grinning again.

"I shall trust your fashion judgement implicitly…again…from now on."

"I don't know why you doubted me in the first place. Wigs are common place."

"Not in my time. I can still shocked and take by surprise by some things here Cinna. In my time a person would be laughed at for wearing a wig unless it was because they'd lost their hair due to illness. We used them for fancy dress sometimes but that was just silly fun. I don't think I ever saw one being used as a serious fashion statement."

"Well, you're supposed to be a Capitol girl now, albeit an unofficial one. You'll need to subscribe to the magazines and stay up to date with fashion and politics for day-to-day conversations and official interviews. Enough of this talk though. Are you ready for your big move-in?"

"Do I even have a choice? I am looking forward to having my own place but it's going to be lonely."

"Nonsense, you'll be in a trendy part of the city. Finnick will be living next door, I'm only be a phone call away, and I suspect Seneca won't give you time to be lonely." He comforted.

"What about Haymitch? Does he really have to go back to district 12?"

"Capitol life isn't for him Carrie. Will you really miss him?"

"You don't need to look so incredulous." Carrie grumbled. "He's sort of grown on me…like a grumpy drunk uncle."

Carrie cracked a smile as Cinna's rich laughter filled the room. "I'll be sure to tell him that one." He offered his arm as he led her from the room back out to the communal area of the apartment. "However the chances are you won't see him until next year, I'm afraid. He should have been out of the Capitol already truth be told. So be sure to say your goodbyes to him before leaving the building." The silence that followed the information prompted him to look down and see her worrying her bottom lip, fighting back tears. "Don't cry pretty girl." He hushed, brushing his thumbs against her cheeks to wipe away the few stray tears that had escaped her efforts.

"You know how t'please 'em don't you? Making the girl cry, what's 'at about?" Haymitch sniggered, his words already slurring on the alcohol he'd consumed in the short space of time since the day had started. He was startled when the girl released Cinna and flung herself at him, knocking them both backward a few feet.

"I'm going to miss you." She mumbled into his chest while he uncomfortably patted her back.

"Alright, alright that's enough now…" He attempted to unwrap her arms from his waist with little success. "Why on earth'll you miss **me**?"

"Because I will. You're crotchety and argumentative; you insult everyone and your horrendously mean. But I still care about you. You helped keep me alive and you didn't have to."

"Yeah I did. Snow ordered it."

"To Finnick and Seneca mainly, not you. You got involved and stayed involved. You could have left a few weeks ago but you stuck around. I'm just gonna miss you okay? Don't argue." She sniffled, finally releasing him and turning her sad blue eyes on him.

"Yeah, yeah kiddo I got it. I'll miss you too." He muttered with embarrassment, poking her gently in the ribs.

"Will you ring? Or write?"

"I don't promise anything."

"Please? Just so I know you and your kidneys are okay?"

"I'll be alive and kicking for a long time yet girl. Go on. You have a house to get to. You don't have an escort, it's left to us to get you around on time."

"Love ya Hay." She mumbled, giving him a last hug and an affectionate kiss on his stubbly cheek before retreating to Seneca's side, where she was instantly enveloped in his arms.

"I have to leave for a little bit too Carrie. I'll try and see you in a few days time alright?"

"I hate this." She admitted, scuffling her heeled shoes on the floor much to Cinna's exasperation.

"I know, Love, but it will settle down in a few weeks. Cinna will keep you company I am sure, and Finnick will be around when he can."

"See you soon. Stay safe yeah? And…y'know…no parties."

"I have to go to parties Carrie, it's part of my social standing."

"Well, then…"

"What the girl is trying to say is no screwing anyone." Haymitch helpfully offered, causing Carrie to blush bright red and study the floor with sudden interest and Seneca to grin in understanding.

"I won't. I promise." Seneca gentled his smile to tenderness, and brought Carrie's head back up with the tip of his finger to press a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth. "I'll talk to you soon." He promised, softly pushing her in the direction of Finnick.

"I'll take good care of you don't worry." The victor winked, making Carrie blush again; just like her old self. "Come on. The press are waiting for their beautiful new Victor to make an appearance. Big smiles, big waves, blow a few kisses." He prompted, offering his arm to her as the group exited the apartment.

Seneca and Haymitch left in a different direction to the trio, leaving the building by a secret passage while Carrie drew the attention of the entire Capitol to the front of the building.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. This is purely for non-profit fun.

**A/N: **Just a short one fornow, I'm still writing but I have also taken on a from-home college course on business that I'm trying to get through in my spare time as well.

0o0o0o0

Carrie looked in awe at the huge house in front of her. It was actually a proper house, not an apartment like she was expecting. The house had a small front garden with flowerbeds already dug around the edges for her to plant seeds in, and there was a quaint stone path leading up to a vibrant red door. The only difference it held to the house beside it was that the other house had a blue door.

"I love it." She whispered, grinning up at Cinna beside her and trying her hardest to ignore the paparazzi behind them. There was no grande-opening ceremony, just permission from the president for photographs to be taken

"You'll live right next to me too." Finnick pointed to his house, the one with the blue door.

"You're going to have to let me deal with your garden then. It looks far to unloved." She teased, pointing at the bare patches of earth that held no flowers.

"Sweetie, you can do whatever you like with it." He smiled, ruffling her hair. "Come on, you haven't even seen the inside yet."

Carrie nervously accepted the key card from her mentor and walked slowly up the path, savouring the feel of having a place to call her own. The door swung open effortlessly, leading the way into the spacious open plan building.

"Ours differ slightly from the ones in the districts. These are more modern, built for the victors who need a second home for when they spend a lot of time in the Capitol." Finnick explained. "Gloss and Cashmere have a shared house on the other side of me. They aren't around quite as much though."

"It's so airy. I'll never need this much space will I?"

"It's useful for if you host parties for friends, or if you like collecting things."

"Are hosting parties a must for victors?" Carrie asked, turning around with a small frown.

"Not so much hosting, but attending them almost always it. Now go and explore your new house." Finnick made friendly shooing motions, ensuring that the front door was firmly shut before he followed her and Cinna. The ground floor was mostly open; a large kitchen with an island breakfast counter lay at the back right of the house, with a dining area at the back left. The rest of the space was plush carpet underfoot, furnished with top-of-the-range leather furniture and a projected TV on the left-hand wall. A low painted wall that barely reached waist height separated the living room and dining room.

The metallic staircase on the right hand side of the room led to the next floor, which only took up half of the space of the house; leaving the rest open to view the living area. There were floor-to-ceiling bookcases and shelves, empty and ready for Carrie to fill with whatever she so desired. Two leather chairs sat opposite each other, ready to relax in. Another set of metallic stairs led up to the final floor, which held the master bedroom with en-suit, three spare bedrooms, and a generously sized bathroom. The hot-tub bath alone could easily fit 3 people, whilst the enclosed shower had room enough to walk around in.

"This is amazing…"

"But…?" Cinna asked softly.

"It's so big. It's too big for just me. You guys will visit me right? I'll get lonely in all this empty space." Carrie said, a hint of sadness colouring her voice at the prospect of being on her own in a house of such magnitude.

"Honey, if you want we will outstay our welcome every time. You'll be so sick of us you'll be throwing us out." Finnick smiled, drawing her into a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You'll be here for a while then." She mumbled into his chest, cuddling him back. "Will you stay the night?"

"I…I'm afraid I can't tonight babygirl. I can pop round first thing in the morning if you like though?" Finnick said sorrowfully. "Victors like me often have a lot of meetings to go to. Important people want to see me and I have to attend, it's why I live in the Capitol for most of the time." He continued, his face curdling slightly and his words coming out bitter.

"I can stay if you like Carrie." Cinna added softly, knowing the kind of 'meeting' Finnick had to attend.

"Yes please Cinna." The girl nodded, still holding onto her mentor. "I'm sorry you can't stay the night. I hope your evening isn't too boring."

"I will see you tomorrow Carrie, I promise. How about the three of us have some lunch together before I leave to get ready? Does that sound good?" He asked consolingly.

0o0o0

"How is dear little Miss Smith doing?" President Snow asked the man across from him.

"As well as can be expected. Mood swings, terrified, clingy. She'll never be the same."

"She has until the victory tour to recover. You know that. Clients are already putting down money to see her."

"And if a different arrangement could be made?"

"You have nothing to offer me." The President sighed in a bored tone, tiring of the man's company. All he had needed was an update on the child.

"A different victor, one who hasn't been on the market for a long time?"

"You? You honestly expect the people to be interested in you?" The older man almost laughed at the absurdity of it. When the man said nothing the president continued. "The girl is too valuable not to be sold. 5 clients would cover the cost of her house for a year. I will not turn away that sort of revenue."

"Not all of them; I know you will not spare her completely. Just the worst of them, the ones that frequently hospitalise victors with injuries."

"It matters not, not a single person has requested your company since your _image change_."

"Then I will change back again." Came the terse reply. President Snow kept his steely gaze steady as he contemplated the offer.

"I shall consider it Mr Abernathy. _If_ you generate the same income offers as the girl then I will give you the opportunity to take on some of the more physical clients."

The meeting ended and the men parted ways from the secluded rose garden in which they were seated. Running a hand over his stubbly face, Haymitch let out a long and tired sigh as he got into the tinted windowed vehicle that would take him to the train station. His current plan had been kept a secret from the others, and if all went to plan it would remain a secret. He had done a similar thing for Finnick and Cashmere in the early days until clients stopped requesting him. The other two victors had never found out and he never wanted them to. He wasn't good for much in life, but if he could protect ones he cared about under the rough and sullen façade, even just a bit, then he would do it.

The train ride back to District 12 would be uneventful, however in coming weeks he would soon contact his stylists in order for a complete make over. He would cut back on the amount he drank, photographs would be leaked into the Capitol, he may even make a few appearances to do some shopping trips and go along to parties and rub shoulders with the high-paying clients. If he met Seneca or any of the other victors it would be easy to say the President was ordering his attendance.

It would all be a small price to pay if he could save the girl from the worst of the Capitol citizens: the ones who achieved their pleasure from inflicting pain; the ones that caused the victors go to hospital for the injuries. The girl was too innocent to be introduced to that dark side of the Capitol. The girl was still probably still naïve enough to believe the Capitol citizens kept supporting the Hunger Games to simply punish the districts, instead of purely for the intense morbid pleasure they gained from it. It was almost worst that Carrie didn't originate from Panem, in that even after the ordeal of the arena she would likely still be far too trusting. She didn't have a lifetime of loathing and mistrust to guide her like the other victors did.


End file.
